Me Against the World : Flameseekers
by twilightheart36
Summary: Game based story detailing the adventures of several heroes in the Guild Wars universe Prophecies. Growing up can be hard, especially when the world is bordering on destruction. This story is currently undergoing a rewrite. Check back in soon!
1. World of Gods

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Guild Wars in any way, shape, or form. The story and major characters (excluding the names of the characters I made up) are all the property of ArenaNet and NCSoft. This fanfiction is strictly fan written and serves for entertainment (mainly mine) purposes only.

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_In the wake of the fallen god,_

_Tyria was abandoned by the righteous Five._

_In their exodus, did they leave_

_Their world to the humans to trod._

_Humans, one and all,_

_Shall establish their dominion across_

_The globe. Their's shall be the_

_Kingdoms, both large and small._

_Praises they shall send_

_To the mighty Five—_

_To Dwayna, to Balthazar, to Lyssa_

_To Melandru and Grenth will they forever attend._

_Gods revered and ancient powers spurned,_

_They shall prosper, blissfully unaware_

_Of the gate that leads to nowhere and the Nothings_

_Until long after Their flames have burned. _

_But it is this fire I see in a future most grim._

_Fire and pain and death to abound._

_In Tyria, will there always be strife,_

_With attacks launched on another as if on a whim._

_Bloodstones they covet, ancient powers_

_Now lost and scattered to five,_

_The guilds will fight and shed blood on the ground—_

_And so nurse the fledgling embers._

_Over the Wall, over again._

_On come the meteors, deadly crystals_

_Of poison to break the backs of_

_Even the strongest men._

_To eat ash and sleep in flame_

_Will the proud sons of Ascalon be condemned—_

_Kryta will submit to the roar of the untamed Lion_

_Mastered by the Carrion Birds embodying their shame._

_A Cataclysm exploding in the night_

_Will forever destroy the last_

_Of the beautiful city of Arah, home of the Five_

_To unleash the Plague into the fight._

_Blades will bleed_

_Shields will shatter_

_On they'll struggle for seasons without end_

_Refusing the words to concede._

_The Chosen will appear_

_Bringing hope and saving none._

_A hero to lead the world._

_A story starts here._

And so begins the Flameseeker Prophecies…


	2. Ashford Antics

**Season of the Scion, 1070 AE:**

"Hey!"

"Tag! You're it!"

"No fair! You're legs are longer!"

The cool autumn breeze lifted strands of loose hair off of shoulders, throwing it out in rippling waves that streamed behind the streaking figures. Leaves the color of beaten gold hung in the trees, while the brown ones crunched underfoot, making the game that much more enjoyable. Shrieks and bursts of laughter spilt the afternoon air, joining in with the sounds of the farmers preparing the harvest and the guttural grunts and snorts of Farmer Dirk's prize-winning hogs.

"Rayne! Hey!" Rayne Dalca sprinted down the travel-worn path between the tall stalks of the browning grass, turning her head to look over her shoulder. Locks of long, red hair blew around her oval face, covering it in a mass of fine strands that glowed bright, ruddy gold in the sun.

"Can't catch me!" she bellowed, swatting the obstructing strands away with one deft swipe. The words only seemed to goad her pursuers more. Dark haired Gwen charged out in front, swerving to the side to come at her prey from another angle. Rayne skidded to a halt, changing direction as she went to shoot past the big boulders bordering on the Hathorn's cultivated fields to dash over the hill.

The little pounding boots behind her now belonged to Aika. Taunting the poor girl, Rayne tore off in the direction of the large oak surrounded by sunflowers lifting their bright heads to the sky. She crashed into the shallow pool of crystal clear water, sending the droplets flying in a wide arc with a grin in her eyes of the same color as the water and a laugh on her lips.

Aika and Gwen shot after her, stopping only momentarily at the water's edge before following their companion in, splashing the pure water up as high as the hems of their dresses. Rayne had stopped running at the base of the tree, waiting with her hand on the knotted wood for her two playmates to run up and each touch their hands to her arms.

"Got you!" Gwen cried, patting Rayne's right arm so that she could stand on the dry ground and not get anymore wet than she already was.

"Did not," Rayne said as she shrugged the girls off of her and folded her arms over her chest. "I got to base first."

"There's no base in tag," Aika argued, sloshing the water with her booted foot, hands linked together behind her back as she twisted her torso to an upbeat tune only she could hear.

"I'm bored," Rayne said, ignoring the last comment and pushing past her two comrades to wade out into the deeper water between the natural cliffs. She ran her hand over the rounded boulder, polished smooth with years of rain water trickling down its surface to feed the tiny gorge. The water here came up to her knees, teasing the hem of her bright yellow dress as she walked. "Let's do something."

Gwen had taken a spot on the edge of the pool to sit with a red iris flower held delicately between her grubby fingers. She was twirling the stem between her hands, dark strands of her bobbed hair hanging down in her face. Aika was standing over her, bent at the waist with her hands on her knees, loose pieces falling from the pigtails she favored. The truly startling thing about Aika was the fact that her hair was pure, snow white—all of it completely, one hundred percent natural.

"I know!" Rayne continued as though she wasn't being ignored. "Let's go to Ascalon City!"

"But you're going there later," Gwen piped up, looking up from the flower in her hands with a curious look on her face. "Why'd you want to go now? And without your mommy…"

"I don't need my mom, Gwen. I'm fourteen. I can go to Ascalon City all by myself now." Rayne puffed out her chest as she strutted back around the boulder. "Besides, mom is already in Ascalon 'cause she's an actress that works for Lady Althea."

"Did you hear that Lady Althea is going to get married soon?" Gwen said, tracing a gentle finger over the velvety petals of the red iris in her hand, a loving tenderness in her big brown eyes that she reserved for nothing in particular.

"Yeah. To the prince," Aika chimed in. She straightened, doing her best to fling as much water with one booted move as she possibly could, gleaming silver-gray eyes lighting up as the chaos eddied in the pool. "You're so lucky, Rayne. You've met Prince Rurik."

Rayne scrunched up her face in disgust. "How so? He's old. Older than my brother. The two of them are friends, but not me." With a deep sigh, Rayne flopped down where she was standing, gasping as she sank up to her waist in the cool water. Smiling, Aika mimicked her, actually screaming out loud when her behind slipped below the mirror like surface. Gwen laughed, setting the red iris delicately by her side so that her hands were free to send a wave of water rushing toward her two friends sitting in the water.

Before they knew it, the three girls were laughing and screaming as they sent cascades of water spilling over the lip of pool, drenching everything with a joyous _splash_. Soaked through to the bone, but thoroughly pleased with themselves, each was disappointed when the call echoed from the top of the cliff that was the road up to the abbey.

"Rayne!"

Rayne looked up from the position on all fours she had taken when her foot had slipped on a mossy rock to see the young man waving to her from the top of the hill.

"That's my brother," she announced to the other girls as she pushed herself to her feet, slapping the sopping pieces of red-gold hair from her face. "C'mon!" With Rayne in the lead, the three girls, along with Gwen's iris, strode over to the white cobblestone street that climbed the incline on the left cliff up to where Ashford Abbey stood waiting.

The young man that had summoned them was leaning against the brick of the house just outside of the monastery's wrought-iron fence, arms folded across his chest. His hair was the exact same red-gold of Rayne's, but cropped short in waves that curled down into his eyes opposed to the long strands that hung down her back.

"You're really wet, munchkin," he said, voice even as though he had expected much worse. Rayne stopped several feet from him and placed both of her hands on her hips, sticking out her tongue in open defiance. "Go change."

"You're not daddy, Gai," Rayne said. "You can't make me."

Gailardia Dalca sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly as he pushed away from the wall. "Fine," he said. "Look like a mess when we go into town." He turned to the other two girls and picked up a bundle from next to his feet. Separating the cloths with one flick of his wrist, he held out an electric blue cloak to Aika and a vibrant red the color of the iris flower in her hand to Gwen. "The other _real_ ladies can have the cloaks to get warm and dry."

Elation sparked behind the eyes of the two young girls as they eagerly snatched up the cloaks, hugging the material close to their chests as they admired them.

"Can we go with you to Ascalon City too, Gai?" It was Aika that asked the question, fastening the clasp of the brooch around her neck. "Please!" Gwen nodded vigorously, despite the sour look the two of them were earning from Rayne. Gai ran his fingers through his wavy red bangs, contemplative look on his face already giving them their answer.

"I guess I can do that," he finally conceded aloud, causing the two of them to jump and draw a warm smile from Rayne. "Probably should tell your mothers though before we go. Gods know that with Ashford being as small as it is, they'll probably be aware before we even make it to the main road, but it's polite, yeah?" The three girls nodded enthusiastically and Gwen and Aika took off down the road back to the center of town where their game of tag had originated.

Gai tapped Rayne's arm as she made to follow her friend's. She stopped, looking over her shoulder expectantly. "Here," he said, holding out a pale gold cloak to her, that she graciously accepted. The autumn chill was already beginning to make her wish that she hadn't sat down in the pool. "Never let it be said that I don't look after my baby sister," he added, trying to ruffle her sodden hair and only succeeding in increasing the number of knots.

The two of them met up with Gwen and Aika in the center of town, dancing around the legs of a woman that Rayne recognized as Gwen's mother, Sarah Whitaker. "I'm watching Aika for the day as well. It's wonderful of you to take them like this, Gailardia," she said over the sweet, but painfully broken, notes trailing from the little wooden flute Gwen was now playing.

"The pleasure is all mine," Gai said with a sweeping bow. "Beyond that, I think Rayne appreciates the company. Ascalon City can get pretty boring for her sometimes."

"Yes, I'd imagine so," Sarah commented thoughtfully. "Do pass on my thanks to your father as well. Gods know we could use more men like Warmaster Dalca in the world."

"I'll be sure to tell him," Gai said, shepherding the three antic girls in the direction of the road. Rayne waved to Sarah as the small party moved off, skipping after them once she got a response from the woman.

The road from the little settlement of Ashford to the hub of Ascalon City was a short one, and frequently traveled by merchants as they made their rounds through the countryside. Rayne loved walking along it in the fall. A portion of the road as they were leaving Ashford was overshadowed by a line of trees on both sides, leaves gleaming in bursts of reds, oranges, and yellows that always brought a smile to whatever face looked upon it. _Fall is a season for smiling_, Rayne had decided. _How could it not be when everything's so bright and cheerful?_

She paraded next to her friends all the way down the cobbled path with a laughing smile permanently stuck on her face. She and Gwen and Aika would giggle together over the smallest of things, from the trails left in the wake of a persistent snail to the soldiers garbed in the standard Ascalonian red and khaki combating a nasty swarm of bees.

The road was one that was safe enough, but every now and then, a lone skale creature would wander up from the banks of the river that flowed past. Rayne and her friends would gasp and applaud appreciatively as Gai, already an accomplished Elementalist, sent a ball of flame scurrying after the overgrown lizard-like monsters.

After nearly fifteen minutes of walking, they reached the castle like entranceway to the great white city of Ascalon. Rayne skipped through the arched gateway wide enough to permit several to walk side-by-side, coming to an abrupt halt in the town square to stare in wonder at the world around her. Freshly painted houses stretched along the roads, mingling with the shops on every inch of available ground not taken up by the aimlessly wandering pedestrians. The city itself was three levels, separated by grand staircases on each end of the city. Beyond its walls rose the breathtaking Great Northern Wall, built across the middle of the kingdom.

"Gai?" Rayne asked once he and the two girls caught up with her. Her brother hummed to show he was listening, scanning the faces of the crowds as they passed by. "What's beyond the Great Northern Wall?" His head swiveled back to fix stunning blue eyes as dark blue as ink vats on her.

"Beyond the Wall? The Northlands are up there, Rayne-y," he answered. "You should know that. That's where dad goes when he fights the Charr."

"The Charr are mean," Aika said. "They're all fuzzy and look like big kitties, but they're mean. Mama and Papa say that's why they moved from Drascir to Ashford. They don't like the mean Charr."

"That they are, little one," came a new voice from behind Rayne. She jumped, spinning around in the same motion to notice that her nose was now practically pressed against a metal clad stomach. She cried out and jumped backward, eyes finally able to look up without hurting her neck to see who it was.

"Rurik!" she shouted, sudden fear being instantly replaced by excitement. The Prince of Ascalon chuckled, beard rimmed mouth opening in that manner he had that no one else could refuse. "Don't scare me like that!"

"My apologies, Rayne. It was not my intent to startle you," Rurik chuckled, patting her on the head before realizing that she was wet. He looked at his hand for a moment and wiped the dampness off on his sleeve.

Gailardia shuffled forward, bobbing his head to the prince respectfully. "Prince Rurik," he mumbled, "without Captain Osric today?"

"I'm on my way to find him, actually. It's Althea's birthday tomorrow. Even a prince needs advice on what to get his betrothed for a birthday gift."

"Would you mind wishing her 'many happy returns' for me? I'd do it myself, but I find myself in a bit of a predicament for the moment. I'm afraid my social life has taken a bit of a downturn."

"Predicament? Surely you're not thinking about disappearing again, are you? Rumors are circulating that you took a bit of an extended camping trip in the Northlands." The sun winked off of the intricate links in the mail shirt he was wearing, nearly blinding Rayne when she tried to look at the prince. He was taller than Gai, but not by much, which meant that he would definitely be taller than her even once she finished growing.

"Are they? Funny how things like that start and quickly get out of hand and totally ridiculous," Gai answered. Rayne covered her mouth with her hand as she noticed the faint blush creeping into her brother's cheeks. She knew all about what they were talking about…

A cracking noise and a gasp issued from behind them. Rayne wheeled around on her heels to see Gwen stooping to pick up her flute, or rather, what was left of it. She had dropped it and it had split in two, lying in splintered halves on the sun-warmed stone road. She cradled the pieces to her chest, rocking slowed and crooning as though to a baby. Aika had placed a hand on her back, patting her comfortingly.

"Ah… Forgive me, Rurik, but it seems as though I have a new predicament," Gai said, drawing another one of the fabled chuckles from the prince. He clapped a hand on Gai's shoulder, shaking him in a friendly manner.

"It's been too long, my friend. Soon, you and I will be going to a tavern for a nice pint of ale. After all, I haven't long before I can't call myself a bachelor any longer." Gai returned the gesture, having far less of an effect on the bigger man, but meaning the very same. The two made their promises and went about their separate ways.

Sniffing, Gwen toddled along behind Gai as he led the troop of girls through the streets, the older boy offering consolations all the way to their destination. Gwen nodded to everything, eyes only on the flute fragments clutched in her hands as though she held the life of a dying friend between her short fingers.

The cluttered little stall that Gai led them to looked like it had just been hit by an impressive storm. Knick-knacks on strings hung from all the rafters while various assortments of colorful junk had been heaped onto the shelves in precarious piles.

"Cale!" Gai shouted, rapping his knuckles on the wood frame four times when they approached. "Come out here. Customers." Caleb Kohlman shuffled out from behind a musty curtain, stretching his arms behind his head while stifling a yawn.

"Well, if it isn't Gailardia Dalca," Cale said, not bothering to smooth down the miniature spikes his wood brown hair liked to stick up in after he slept. "And Little Dalca." Rayne pouted. She did not like being called 'little'. "Guess we're having a party," he added when he saw Aika and Gwen hovering close to her shoulders. "About to be a bigger one, I think. There was someone looking for you, Gai." Caleb pointed, indicating that there was someone behind them. Rayne cast a quick glance over her shoulder and groaned.

Alianne Longbranch stood with her eyes narrowed, leather booted foot tapping on the ground impatiently as she stared at Gai, who was looking rapidly more and more sheepish. Rayne wanted to elbow him in the gut. She didn't really like Alianne and she knew that Alianne definitely didn't like her.

"You're late, Dalca," Alianne growled. She was formidable, even at a height that was dwarfed by both Gai and Cale, her two friends. "And here I find you babysitting." She glared at Rayne, who glared equally hard back.

"I know," Gai grumbled apologetically under his breath, raising his hands in an attempt to help with the tension. "Just give me a minute." Turning back to a beaming Cale, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to have a flute, would you? Gwen broke hers." As if on cue, Gwen thrust her broken instrument out to show the young shopkeeper, lip trembling as Cale bent to get a good look at it.

"Sure," he said with a shrug that clearly said he found the challenge Gai had brought to him less than dull. He turned to the jam-packed shelf on his right, tugging a box out from the very bottom without causing anything to spill. All three girls' eyes widened at the feat, including Rayne even though she had seen him do something like it before. "What color?" The box contained a velvet cloth with an assortment of wooden instruments like a gift wrapped rainbow. Gwen ran her forefinger across the woods, finally pointing to the white one. "Good choice," Cale told her brightly as he let her pick it up out of the box. Turning back to Gai, he said, "Four gold pieces."

Rayne watched as Gai extracted the gold coins from his belt pouch and passed them over to Cale. The belt pouch looked so good on Gai's belt, off-white canvas cloth held closed with a little golden snap. She couldn't wait until she came of age and her parents gave her one of her own.

"One more thing," Gai said to Cale, ensnaring the young man's attention once again. He leaned on the counter, looking up expectantly at Gai's rosy cheeks, waiting for him to spit the words out. "Could you look after Rayne and her friends for me until my mother comes to get them? I…uh…have something to look after." Rayne saw the almost imperceptible head jerk toward Alianne, causing her scowl to deepen. Gai was going to run off with _her_ again!

Cale shrugged, ushering the three girls behind the counter with him. Rayne refused to move until the retreating back of her brother and Alianne had disappeared into the crowd. They were all always doing that. Her daddy with the army, her mom with her actor's troop, Gai with his friends. Sighing once they had vanished into the throngs, Rayne slipped into the stall to sit in the back with Gwen and Aika, listening to Gwen twiddle away on her new, white flute. Things would be different soon, she reasoned…tomorrow maybe…


	3. Over the Wall, Over again

Autumn in Ascalon. There was no finer time anywhere. The leaves on the trees were all a molten variety of reds, oranges, and golds, littering the soft grass like confetti and swirling through the crisp air on tufts of wind like little fairy dancers. Gai breathed deeply, turning his head to the right as he walked down the white cobble path at the imposing feature that was the Great Northern Wall.

It towered over the bustling metropolis that was Ascalon City. Hundreds of feet of white stone stacked high in magnificent turrets, arches, and spires that defied the sky, tickling the undersides of the clouds. For close to two hundred years, this structure had spanned the width of Ascalon, dividing it into the Northlands and Ascalon proper. Two hundred years of defending the beautiful kingdom from its northern neighbors—the Charr.

"Something wrong?" Alianne Longbranch was looking over her shoulder as she walked a pace ahead of him. The tip of the fishtail braid she always tied her hair back in swayed between her shoulder blades with every step she took.

"No. Just thinking about the Charr," Gai answered, taking one extra long step to catch back up with her. Unsurprisingly, Alianne balled her hands into fists at her sides, stony cold look snaring her green eyes on the road in front of her.

"The Charr," she spat. "To hell with those beasts." Gai sighed and patted her shoulder comfortingly.

The pair skirted the edges of the actor's stage, sneaking peeks at the rehearsing actors and actresses up on the stage protruding into the sunken pit. Gai easily spotted his mother dancing in a ring of other actresses, red-gold locks so much like his and Rayne's sparkling radiantly in the midday sun. The stage was constantly in use, always performing tantalizingly wonderful shows for the people of Ascalon to enjoy. Gai still came to watch his mother perform from time to time.

But not today. He could only slink by, hoping that the drapes and banners fluttering in the wind would be enough to mask his presence from the accusing motherly glare of Fiona Dalca. There was little she could do to really stop him now that he was of age, but that wouldn't stop her from mentioning it if she knew.

"Don't be scared, Dalca," Alianne crooned. She had gotten ahead of him again in the short amount of time he had not been paying attention. It baffled him how someone at least a head shorter than he was could move twice as fast, but that was Alianne. He smirked with a click of his tongue, easily closing the gap between them again.

One of Alianne's numerous contacts within the Ascalon Guard, Torin, was on duty at the gate when they arrived. He placed a finger across his lips with a soft shushing noise and creaked the heavy wooden doors open for them, waving them through the tunnel in the wall to the other side. Gai's grin widened as they squeezed through the opening. The Northlands were beckoning…

It was a much wilder place than the Ascalon south of the Great Wall, the untamed battlefield between man and nature. Old roads that had been built before the time of the Charr invasions had been neglected by all but time. Walls of stone houses crumbled into the dust, broken pillars of old rolled down sculpted hills to sink into the mud of the lakebeds that dotted the land like diamonds, and creatures fiercer than any south of the wall reigned here with iron jaws. It was with care that Alianne and Gai extracted their hidden cache of weaponry from the hollow tree that served as their vault.

"I want to show you something," Alianne said casually as she buckled the strap of her quiver across her chest. The shortbow in her left hand remained unstrung, but that would not be a deterrent if the need for battle were to arise. Gai shuddered lightly at the thought as he twirled his staff in his hands.

"Lead the way."

Their path was clear enough, despite the slick moss and mounds of dying leaves that obscured the dirt. Alianne wound her way through the old ruins, often times running a hand on the decrepit stone. She led him down to the lake, wandering the wall lined trail until Gai noticed the bright white arches nestled on the water's far edge. She led him over the natural earth bridge and up to the rust bitten wrought iron vines surrounding the Fleur de Leis on the open gates.

From there, it was down the small flight of stairs to the market square encased on all sides by the same white stone that all of Ascalon had been built with. Merchant stalls that held an eerie abandoned feel from all the cobwebs and tree spawned debris lined the walls, standing guard for the stacks of wooden boxes and barrels with goods that Gai was certain were no longer good for sale. Tufts of grass poked through the cracked stones imbedded in the dirt, threatening to tickle the calves of anyone who walked by too closely.

"Welcome to Piken Square," Alianne said, raising her arms even with her shoulders, palms facing the sky as she gestured around her.

"This is it?" Gai asked, placing a hand on the ornate stone plant box that was taller than he was, set in the center of the square.

"What's left of it." Gai removed his hand and looked back at his friend still standing at the base of the entrance stairs. "Another casualty of Charr expansion. It was a merchant hub until they were forced to abandon it when the Charr made advances."

"This is where you've been living?"

Alianne smirked, obviously proud of herself. "Yep. Here, it's easy to keep an eye on what those monsters are up to. Dunno how you people expect to accomplish anything by cowering behind the Wall. Rurik definitely has the right idea when he says to take the fight to the Charr." Gai sighed and shook his head, drawing a 'tut' from her. "I know you have to agree. Rurik is your friend and your father is a Warmaster! I know you have to already have a place lined up for you in the Ascalon Vanguard."

Ignoring the comment, Gai strode off to left, circling around the large rectangle obstructing movement in the square to amble aimlessly down the line of empty stalls. It would have been a fair of epic proportions, he decided as he looked at them. He could picture the balding old men and the plump, kind women hawking their wares in their boisterous tones.

"Hey! Don't you walk away from me, Gailardia Dalca!" Alianne hissed. She was trailing behind him, eyes wide and bright as she worked herself up into an argumentative mood. Gai continued on his way, ignoring the angry words following him until he rounded the corner at the end of the L shaped fort-like area, stopping under the leaves of the oak that had taken up residence many years previously. He heard Alianne plant her feet in the dirt a couple feet away from him.

"I don't actually have an official place in the Vanguard," he said at last, looking up the trunk of the tree to where the lowest branches split away flawlessly from the trunk.

"What?"

"I've had offers from the Academy of Arcane Arts in Nolani to join the Order of the Flaming Scepter for a couple of years now. Mom and Dad wouldn't hear of me joining until I came of age, and then I put it off for a year. They really want someone with my magic talents in their ranks and I'm running out of reasons to tell them no." Gai took the opportunity to glance back over his shoulder. Alianne was staring at him thoughtfully, facial expression refusing to express any emotion whatsoever. He chuckled lightly to himself. Same old Ali. He pivoted on his heels, question written in his eyes for her to answer.

"Nolani, huh? That's kinda far," she answered taciturnly. "Guess I'd lose my Charr hunting partner if you left…"

Gai opened his mouth to answer and promptly shut it again when the guttural growls and sound of pounding, clawed feet reached his ears. His eyes met Ali's surprised ones and the the two darted into the shadows behind the tree. Risking a glance upward, Gai noticed the group of creatures tromping past their hiding place on the ledge above the abandoned market square. Heavily armored creatures that strongly resembled very feral cats with pointed snouts that could walk on two legs and wield weapons as efficiently as any human. A Charr Warband on the prowl…

Adrenaline coursing through him, working more effectively than any drug, turned his attention back to his partner. She nodded almost imperceptibly and the two scrambled up over the nearest wall, using the broken slabs of stone as footholds. The Warband they were trailing moved noisily on ahead of them, masking any racket they made as they followed at a safe pace. Ali's fingers twitched as her right hand hovered near the string of her bow. Gai hadn't seen her string it.

As the group of five Charr rounded a bend in the road, Ali raised her bow and nocked an arrow, only to have a hand stay her string. Gai felt the boring gaze of her glower, but shook his head, gesturing to the sky. It was an ashy red, the color of blood freshly mixed with dirt. Anger was quickly replaced with puzzlement and she nodded fervently when Gai motioned that he wanted to move forward.

Gai felt the breath catch in his throat when they crested the nearby hill, overlooking the valley around them. In the very center roamed flocks of Charr—dozens upon dozens of them, swarming around a gigantic altar with a enormous basin filled to the brim with something that glowed an ethereal reddish blue.

"Gai…" The worry in Ali's voice was not something he was accustomed to hearing, immediately snapping his attention back from the Charr to her lying belly down near the edge of the hill next to him. "Gai, that's Bonfaaz Burntfur! He's a general in the Charr army."

He sucked in a great breath, whipping his head back around to get a good look at the Charr Ali was pointing out. Burntfur was dancing on the far side of the cauldron, thrusting the staff in his hand toward the sky repetitively as he did so, as if he was in the middle of performing some sort of ritual. The eerie stuff in the basin glowed brighter when his hands were thrust toward the sky, but nothing about it looked lethal as of yet.

"We have to tell Rurik," Gai said, inching away from the edge. Ali took one last look and nodded, sneaking away from the mob as silently as they could manage. _I just hope Torin's still on duty on the other side_, Gai thought as miserable images of the Charr having found some sort of weapon punctured his mind. _This is going to take a lot of explaining…_

*************

The floating bubble of water shimmered like a fragile diamond. It rotated slowly, spreading out sideways as it went, developing long wings and a thin, shapely neck that ended in a perfectly pointed beak. The mass of water shifted to accommodate the body size of the swan. The first flap of crystal wings drew cheers and gasps from the anxious audience of young girls.

"It's so pretty, Cale!"

"You're amazing."

Caleb Kohlman bobbed his head appreciatively at the high praise, twiddling his fingers expertly to make his swan perform for his captivated viewers. It stretched out its shimmering neck, tucking its little feet in close to its body as it glided soundlessly around their heads, drawing excited giggles from everyone of them.

He had closed his shop early, finding the task of staying on top of selling next to impossible with three young girls bombarding his shop in their quest to amuse themselves. Rayne, Gwen, and Aika had jumped up and down when he had told them he was going to take them back to Ashford for the rest of the afternoon. The three of them had raced down the road, leading their unwitting chaperone to his doom in the pool formed by the waterfalls trickling down in misty rainbows on the east side of the small town.

Thoroughly soaked since tripping down the ledge of the highroad and rolling downhill all the way, he was now sitting cross-legged on the little island in the center, creating glass-like animals from the water to amuse his young captors.

"Cale," Rayne said inquisitively as her bright blue eyes followed the path of the swan. "You're an elementalist, right? Like my brother?"

"More or less." The swan flapped its wings as it climbed above their heads. In a whirl, the water creature disappeared to be replaced instantly by a pointy star amid claps of awe.

"Are you a member of the Order of the Flaming Scepter?"

"Me? No… No, I'm not. I'm not quite talented enough to go to a prestigious place like the Academy of Arcane Arts. Why do you ask?" Rayne looked down at the ground between her folded legs, twiddling a piece of grass that she had plucked from the sandy shore between her fingers.

"I was just wondering," she mumbled, "because I wanted to ask you to tell Gai not to join them." With a snap of his fingers, the star exploded, showering the squealing girls with tiny droplets of water.

"Your brother loves you, Rayne. Regardless of how far away he goes and how things change, he will always be your brother and you will always be his sister. And don't you ever forget it." Rayne wrinkled her nose as though she smelled something vile, scowling deeply when a chuckling Cale shoved her lightly on the arm. "So, I hear you're getting old. Fourteen is it now?" Her expression changed faster than a storm could change its winds, sudden elation at the shift in topics shining through. She nodded vigorously to which he clamped a hand onto her head, ruffling her hair. "Thought of a profession you'd want yet?"

"I…" Rayne began.

"I want to be a warrior, just like my daddy," Gwen piped up, picking up her flute now that the water show seemed to be over. "But the mesmers outfits are _so_ much prettier. And if I was a mesmer, I could be like Lady Althea and Rayne's mom!"

"Well, Master Nente has taught me how to use a bow. He says I'm really, really good at it," Rayne said quickly to prevent any other interruptions, using her arms to act out drawing the string back to her cheek while sighting down the shaft of an arrow. "I haven't missed a target yet!"

"A ranger, huh?" Cale said, scratching the tip of his beardless chin. "I dunno, Rayne. Could just have been really good luck, you know," he continued, sarcasm oozing from his tone, earning him a shove back from the younger girl.

"Nuh-uh!" she said. "It's not luck! You'll see. Someday, I'll be the best ranger in the whole world!"

"Sure thing, kiddo," Cale replied, stifling a yawn as he looked up at the distant horizon. The last golden light of the sun was fading, turning the sky into a painter's palette of crimson, persimmon, and amber mixed with the pale velvety night blossoming overhead. "Only someday though. Right now, you three need to be getting back to town before your mothers worry."

The three girls groaned at the indirect order, but did as they were told, shambling away from the cave and pool that had become their playhouse castle and moat of the afternoon. Rayne led the way, daring Aika and Gwen to race her home.

"Rayne, wait!" Gwen said just before the older girl shot off running. She stopped, toe of her right foot twitching in the gritty dirt. "Thanks for being my friend!" The younger girl thrust her hand toward Rayne, dangling something in front of her face. Rayne tentatively reached up and took it from her, turning it over in her hands. It was a shred of thick cloth with the elaborate embroidery of a red iris flower on it, outlined with flashing red sequins that sparkled in the dying light of the sun. "That's my most valuable treasure in the whole world. I want you to have it."

"Aww…thanks, Gwen!" Rayne answered, hugging the fraying scrap of cloth to her chest. "I'll take really good care of it! Always! I promise!" Gwen smiled, her chocolate eyes closing in her glee.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right, Rayne?" she said as they sauntered back toward the village under the supervision of Cale. The three would part in the center of town like always to go to their separate homes for the night.

"Of course! I'll see you tomorrow! That's a promise."


	4. The Path to Glory

"Rurik!"

Gai roughly elbowed his way through the throngs of Ascalon City, taking the stairs up to the second level of the city two at a time to catch up with the prince striding purposefully toward the western walls. Prince Rurik had come to a halt when he had heard his name called out over the din of the crowd, waiting with a hand impatiently tapping on the hilt of his sword. Gai skidded to a halt in front of him, wiping errant strands of his wavy red-gold hair out of his eyes.

"Can it wait, Gai?" the prince asked shortly, mind clearly elsewhere as his beetle black eyes scanned the road over his shoulder. "Something's come up."

"One moment, milord." Gai held up a hand to prevent his friend from running off. "I swear that's all this will take." Rurik nodded curtly and Gai took a shuddering breath in an attempt to calm his taut nerves. He felt like a guitar that had had its strings tuned too tightly—one good pluck would be more than enough to snap every one in his body. "It's about the Charr."

Rurik's attention was instantly all on Gai, eyes narrowing to calculating slits. A hand wave passed between them from the prince to prompt him to proceed. "They're congregating in massive numbers in the Northlands. Dozens of warbands and all of them within a wide radius of an altar that is hot with magic. Under the leadership of Bonfaaz Burntfur no less."

A shadow had fallen on Rurik's features as his brow wrinkled in premature lines, folding in and down to make him seem so much older than he really was. _I wonder if I look as much like my father as he does like his_, Gai thought suddenly, awaiting any sort of reply.

"Come with me," Rurik replied sternly, wheeling around sharply to march off on his original path with a rejuvenated vigor. Gai's mouth pressed to a thin, straight line, but he nodded once and skipped forward to match pace with his childhood friend. "This news disturbs me greatly, Gailardia. How did you come by it?"

"I have seen it with my own eyes. The threat of a renewed assault from the North seems very likely from what I have witnessed." The two rounded the corner of the walkway and marched up the stairs to stand at the top of the western wall, looking out across to the far distant Northlands.

"The truth is, Gai," Rurik said quietly, posture as erect as a board from the two decades of military training imposed upon him. "I have just received word that there may be a Charr utilizing the catacombs that all of the area from Ascalon City to the Barradin Estates in the west and farther south toward the Blazeridge Mountains were built on top of to move around right under our very noses. And now you come to me will word of a substantial Charr threat accumulating on our doorstep."

Understanding flared in Gai's eyes and anger surged through his heart, now palpitating madly against his chest.

"You're fears may have more merit than you originally thought, no?" His suddenly very dry mouth made swallowing next to impossible. "I am leading an elite force of my division, the Ascalon Vanguard, in pursuit of the one called Vatlaaw Doomtooth that has infiltrated our lands. Will you accompany me?"

"I would follow you to the ends of the earth and back again, my Prince," Gai answered solemnly, side of his right balled fist smacking into his breast in a salute, chin held high.

"I know you would," Rurik replied, friendly hand clapping him respectfully on the shoulder, golden mail winking like the scales of a dragon in the mid afternoon sun. "The time has come for the Vanguard to strike. We will do more than just defend the Great Wall. With Balthazar's will, we will send these Charr back to the hell that spawned them! Let us go, Gailardia." Gai nodded once and strode purposefully after his prince, fully taking notice of every whitewashed, thatched roof house, every wood framed merchant stall, and every weathered surface worn to grit of the white stone they passed by for the first time.

This was Ascalon. This was home.

The group of twenty soldiers in the traditional Ascalon red met them at the city gates, each saluting to reveal the emblem of the sword, shield, and rose under the rising sun that was the mark of the Ascalon Vanguard on bands around their arms.

"We make for the eastern caves," Rurik ordered as he returned the salute, gesturing toward the bridge on the far edge of the city. His right hand shot down to his left side like lightning, fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword before drawing the weapon and holding it, tip reaching to challenge the sky.

Sohothin. The ancient sword with flame licking greedily at the blade's edges. Charr Bane, they called it. Prince Rurik's mighty weapon that would lead Ascalon to victory along with its sister, Magdaer, in the hands of King Adelbern. With a triumphant bellow, the group marched on, taking the bridge to the wilderness beyond the walls.

"_Come to the fore, O sons of Ascalon, We fight once more, the battle lines are drawn."_

Rurik was singing while they ran in his soft, soothing tenor. Gai smiled in spite of himself. He knew the song well. His father would sing it too from time to time, often while he was working around the house or out training with his sword. He had taught it to Gai the moment he had been able to sing it back.

"_Now join the men who live to guard us all, Go and defend atop the Northern Wall."_

His feet were hitting the ground in time with the words, thumping and slapping as the road changed from compacted dirt to rough stone. Dank cave walls wrapped themselves around him, musty smell of damp and mildew pressing itself to his nose. There was another smell there too, masked almost completely by the overpowering scent of nature. The smell of singed fur and ash.

"_Fear not the cost, whether in blood or gold, Mourn not the lost, though they will not grow old."_

Gai's hands gripped his staff tightly as the band rounded the corner, slaughtering the lesser Grawl on the way. Fire cackled on the tips of his fingers and the dust of the earth circled in waves around his feet, illuminating the path of the powerful elementalist. The Charr was in their sights, waiting for them with bow and arrow in hand on a ledge overlooking the lake Ascalon City had been built upon. Warriors charged to engage him at close quarters at the lead of their prince, while the rangers and Gai volleyed from a safer distance. The flame brimming over his fingers spilled out in a blazing fireball, aimed perfectly for Doomtooth's forehead.

"_If here they fall, we know they shall live on, When e'er you call or cry, For Ascalon! For Ascalon!"_

"For Ascalon!" the soldiers shouted all at once. The body of Vatlaaw Doomtooth fell heavily to the ground with a thud before silence claimed the caves again. The soldiers wiped their blades and unstrung their bows and Gai joined his prince standing on the lip of the ledge.

Rurik's face was lifted toward the sky, painful look etched deeply into his young eyes. The eerie glow from outside gave his face an unnaturally ruddy hue, turning Gai's attention to the roiling clouds trundling steadily across the sky. The viselike grip of an iron hand squeezing his heart clutched at his chest, dropping his heart to somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Clouds stained blood red mixed with the ashy gray of dust—the calm betraying the storm.

"This is the beginning of the end," Rurik said in barely more than a whisper, eyes blinking madly in the face of the clouds. "And it comes with no fanfare. No tolling of alarms." Clamping his jaw shut for a lack of anything to say, Gai placed a comforting hand on the prince's metal plated shoulder, jarring him slightly. Rurik snapped out of his stupor, rotating his head slightly to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "It has been a pleasure to be your friend, Gailardia Dalca."

He took a deep breath, shaking his head to send the loose strands of hair back into place out of his eyes, words finally coming to mind to make both him and the prince smile.

"For Ascalon."

******************************************************************************

The resounding boom was enough to jar Rayne from her light slumber and sit bolt upright in her bed, head turning to the window on her left.

Boom! … _Boom!_ … BOOM! …

Rayne scrambled, fighting the sheets of her bed for her legs, and, finally extracting them from underneath her blankets, threw open the latched panes to the cool night air of autumn. Thrusting her head out the window for a better look, she turned her head to the left in the direction of Ascalon City, jaw dropping at the sight. Flashes of brilliant reddish blue lit up the twilight sky like massive fireworks peeking over the tips of the little mountains spanning the distance between Ascalon and Ashford. Below her in the courtyard of the Abbey, people scurried about, shouting things to one another that were indistinguishable from the expanse she was from them.

"Rayne!" Her mother's voice was shrill, echoing from the hall right outside her door. Not bothering to close the windows, Rayne sprang from the mattress and landed with a thud on the floor, pounding over to throw open the door to her room.

"What is it, Mama?" she called back, peering hesitantly out into the hall. A resounding explosion carried across from the direction of Ascalon shaking the foundations of the little house, causing Rayne to lose her footing and stumble forward, using the door frame and handle to keep herself upright.

"Rayne! Come here! Quickly!" Tentatively, Rayne released the handle and tiptoed out into the hall, looking around in the dark. Footsteps from her right alerted her to her mother's presence even before the slightly pinching grip wrapped around her upper arm, hauling her toward the stairway to the main floor.

"Mama!" Rayne gasped. "Mama, what is it? What's wrong?" Her mother didn't respond right away, busily half dragging, half carrying her in the direction of the cloak rack on the wall beside the front door. Rayne had always liked staring at the stained glass picture of the rose set in the door on days when she had been waiting to go out with her family. The way the sun hit it made the flower seem more lifelike than just a simple picture in glass. But the dark made it seem like a completely different picture altogether. The splotch of dark red where the petals were looked more like a well of blood pooling in a cut and the stem the long stake that had done the irreversible damage.

The cloak was wrapped tightly around her shoulders before she could protest and pinned in place with the sun shaped brooch. "What's the matter?" Rayne persisted. Her mother smiled feebly before slipping the thin chain around her neck and fumbling with the clasp in the dark. The woman withdrew her hands, leaving the necklace with the heart shaped pendant resting against her collarbone.

Rayne immediately recognized it as half of a locket that she had always remembered hanging from the top of the mirror in her parent's bedroom. The little golden piece had the face of the twin goddess Lyssa on both halves, four little eyes gleaming with drops of purple amethyst.

"Promise me you won't lose it, okay honey," her mother said brightly. Rayne nodded absentmindedly and felt the jerk on her arm tug her out into the waiting night. Another bang drew her sharply back to reality and, for the first time, a twinge of fear knotted itself up in her stomach. She twisted on the front porch to get a better look and gulped when the sparkling blue crystalline meteor-like object fell from the sky into the plain between there and Ascalon.

Another pair of footsteps could be heard approaching from the highroad at a quick pace. Rayne's mother tugged her down the front steps of the house to greet the oncoming figure with a tight embrace.

"Gailardia! I've been worried. Where've you been?" Fiona Dalca cried as she wrapped her free arm around her son's neck. Gai hugged her briefly back before pushing her away with a look of terror in his usually calm expression.

"Never mind that now, mum," he said urgently. "We have to go. It's the Charr. They found a way over the wall." Rayne and her mother's eyes widened in shock at the news, each of them sizing the young man before them up as if hunting for the poor joke. Yet another crystalline meteor crashing down from the sky, closer to them this time seemed to finally drive the point home with a deafening rumble. "Mum, c'mon!" Gai pleaded, tugging on her free arm. "They've already breached the Wall. The Charr are on their way here right now!"

Face contorted as though she had just made a very difficult, split second decision, Fiona reached up and slipped a second chain around her son's neck, second half of the locket now resting against his chest. She then shoved Rayne close to her brother before relinquishing her hold on the girl's arm. "Take your sister and get to Fort Ranik. Find your father there and tell him I'll be along shortly."

"Mama!" Rayne shouted.

"Where are you going?" Gai asked in the same urgent tone as she turned away toward the south.

"To warn the rest of the town and those further south," she replied. "Don't worry about me. Just make it to the fort and tell your father. I promise I'll come later on." Gai nodded and Rayne felt her lip twitch as she tried to keep herself from screaming.

Her brother didn't wait for their mother to disappear from their sight before taking Rayne by the arm and leading her back up the road toward the entrance to the Abbey. She protested vehemently, but he remained undeterred, walking as if possessed by some speed demon.

"Listen, Rayne. If the Charr come before we make it out of the village, I want you to run. Run until you get to the area in Regent Valley where you went to go train with Ranger Nente and don't stop until you get there."

"What about you?" she sniffed, trying to maintain her composure as they made the sharp right turn in front of the Abbey onto the highroad. "And Gwen? And Aika?"

"Mom will get them and don't worry about me. Just do as I ask, okay?"

"But…"

Before she had the opportunity to fully argue her point, the guttural grunts and snorts of dozens of angry beasts echoed from the pathway ahead of them coming from the V that led to Ascalon City. Charr warriors clad in battle gear storming up the path with bright metal weapons that gleamed sickly in the odd glow from the cruel sangria clouds overhead.

Gai increased his pace to a flat out run, dragging his sister along behind until they had a chance of making it onto the other neck of the V that circled back toward the eastern edge of town. Her brother stopped abruptly, using the built up momentum to launch her forward ahead of him. Rayne landed on her knees with a grunt as the skin came away in long strings.

"Run!" he shouted to her, crackling sound of power sparking in the air around his fingertips. Rayne took one last look back, stifling the cry in her throat as the Charr rounded the bend, charging right for her brother and herself. Using her hands to propel herself forward and wincing as more skin peeled away from her as she did so, she launched herself forward, legs pumping back and forth as hard as she could make them work.

Booming echoes from both the Charr magic and her brother's resounded behind her, drawing a frightened squeal from her as she scampered along the road. There were clacking claws behind her and approaching fast, accompanied by the heavy breathing of a soldier in mid stride. One of the Charr had made it past her brother. He was coming for her.

Rayne screamed when the claws on the hand dug deeply into the skin of her left calf, tripping her so that she landed face first on the ground. Rolling over quickly to try and escape, she looked up into the bloodthirsty, armor hooded eyes of the Charr towering head and shoulders over her full height. He was bearing down on her, great pointed smile showing off every one of his lethal looking teeth. She screamed again when he raised his sword, only stopping when his body jerked to one side unexpectedly as if he had just been hit in the back.

The Charr swayed, loosening his grip on her leg so that she could scramble out of the way just in time to prevent herself from being crushed under his weight.

"GO!" Gai shouted as he ran close by, moving to engage another small group of Charr, dust swirling around his feet. Ignoring the pain in her bleeding leg, Rayne jumped to her feet and raced off, thundering down the road toward the bridge to cross the river. She had been up here already once today, playing near the cave with her friends. How many lifetimes had passed since that event already?

The blue crystal meteors were expanding their range, coming in to land in the water only a stone's throw away from the bridge Rayne was thundering across. The explosion burst with a wave of heat and noise, sending the stone of the bridge collapsing to the shallow water below with a sickening crash, Rayne toppling down with them. She landed and picked herself right back up, sobbing uncontrollably now without the tears as she hauled herself back up to the road on the other side.

Streaking away from her home as the very first thatched rooftop caught the spreading blaze of flame, Rayne did not look back as she crossed the second bridge without incident and fled as fast as her little legs would carry her into the woods.

******************************************************************************

There was no way of knowing how long she stayed perched under the protective vine-like branches of the shrubs. Each new explosion renewed the trembling of her lower lip and drew her legs closer to her chest as she shuddered violently. She had bitten her tongue so many times in an attempt to not scream out loud that the irony taste of blood floated above it, drying out her mouth. Smoke rose above the tree tops, rising stench defiling the very air she breathed, even from that distance.

It wasn't until the familiar voice crooning her name came treading down the path that Rayne found any sort of comfort in the night. She darted out from her hiding place and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest. She loved his smell—the rich scent of cloves and honey, doused with a bit of the woodlands he loved to wander in.

Gai helped the injured girl up onto his back, leaning her tired and crying head on his shoulder so that he could give her a piggyback the rest of the way. He didn't seem to mind that she was bleeding all over the place where her leg, knees, and hands touched him.

He followed the path for a while, moving in the opposite direction of the town they had just come from and not stopping until they reached a small shrine. He set her down next to the pool of blessed water that the giant statue emerged from, cupping handfuls of it into his hands to clean her cuts for her.

"Praise Melandru this is here," he murmured, working gently with the soaking wounds and gesturing at the woodland dryad figure sitting in a carving in the live tree in the pool.

"Do you worship Melandru, Gai?" she asked, looking up to the winged woman emptying a pot of continuous water into the pool, eyes down turned demurely as if to offer all her blessing and sanctuary.

"I don't worship gods that can so easily abandon the world they created," he replied softly. "Father always sends his prayers to Balthazar for battle and mom's patron deity is Lyssa for her illusions and acting. Others follow the blessings of the life-giver, Dwayna, while others offer their lives to the service of death in Grenth." He did his best to finish cleaning her numerous cuts and bruises, brushing the knotted strands of her shoulder length hair back behind her ears so that her tears could fall freely to the ground beneath her.

"If I had to pick a god to worship, it would be Melandru though," he continued at last. "Be a protector, Rayne. Guard the weak. Save those that can't save themselves." He placed a hand on her cheek to wipe away her tears with his thumb. She offered him a small smile, squirming as something weighty in her cloak caught her attention.

There was something in the pocket. Very carefully, Rayne reached in, withdrawing the tattered tapestry shred that Gwen had given her earlier that day. Fresh tears poured forth and Rayne Dalca collapsed into her brother's arms as he kneeled on the ground beside her, one hand clinging to his shirt while the other held the tapestry red iris to her chest, sobs carrying out into the deepening night.


	5. Of Crystal and Red Dust Rocks

**Season of the Zephyr, 1072 AE:**

_He was a giant. A man so tall that he could touch the tips of the tallest mountains and return with glittering handfuls of stardust streaked in his dark auburn hair. He was strong, able to wrestle Old Mack's cantankerous bull to the ground with one hand tied behind his back. And he had a laugh that started somewhere deep in his gut, shaking his enormous frame all the way out, bellowing for the whole world to hear in his lively tenor._

_Lazarus Dalca waved from the front steps of the house, filling out the standard issue red uniform of the Ascalon Army, laughing merrily at the sight of his visitor. She smiled radiantly, rushing up from the low point in the hill to greet him. He was laughing with his hands on his hips, foresty green eyes twinkling in the sunlight. _

_But before she could get there, he stopped, spinning around to look back up the road toward the Abbey. Groups of Charr were streaming out of the hills, running straight for Ashford. When she looked back, a squad of soldiers had gathered around their fearless leader, drawing weapons as he easily outpaced them all in the footrace to meet the beasts._

_She watched in horror, completely unable to move as the sword tip sliced through his back. He fell—the invincible force of man slumping to the ground in the puddle of his own blood…_

Her eyes shot open and the muscles in her abdomen contracted suddenly, pulling her bolt upright in bed, looking wildly around. She remembered not a second too late about the underside of the bunked bed above her, ducking just in time to avoid splitting her head open on the splintery wood. Suddenly remembering where she was, Rayne Dalca sighed, leaning back until her folded elbows caught her weight to keep her head suspended over the pillow.

She was in one of the barracks of the Ascalon Academy, surrounded by other bunks filled with soldiers. The windows set in the wall close to the roof were dark still, giving her the feeling that it wasn't quite dawn. With a sigh, Rayne flipped the blankets off of her legs and tumbled out of her bunk.

The stone floor was icy on her bare toes, highly encouraging to lace up her boots before wandering over to the washbasin against the wall directly behind her bunk. Jerking the cloth off of the hook and draping it over her shoulder, Rayne reached into the full basin, cupping her hands full of frigid water and splashing it on her face. The cloth migrated from her shoulder, spreading to cover her face and wipe away the droplets, but she stopped halfway when she lowered the cloth enough permit her reflection in the mirror to stare back.

The purple lines under her eyes were relatively new, considering. It had only been a little over a year since her admittance into the Ascalon Vanguard, and in that short amount of time, her lips had forgotten how to smile. Ensnaring the last few errant drops, she placed the cloth on the rim of the basin and twitched the corner of her mouth into a passable, halfhearted grin. The expression vanished seconds later and Rayne scrubbed her hands furiously in the water. Smiling just didn't seem to suit her.

Brushing strands of errant locks that had been drenched in her splashing back behind her ears, Rayne replaced her cloth on the hook and shuffled over to the foot of her bunk. She nosed the lid of the trunk stationed there open with the tips of her toes and rifled through the contents, kicking the few selected items she would need for the day out to the ground beside it.

The pair of gloves had been custom fitted for her, the left one rising all the way up to the middle of her upper arm in interlinking woven strips while the right stopped just short of the heel of her hand, leaving both her pinky finger and thumb exposed. She clapped her hands together once to settle the material against her skin and quickly cinched the hard leather triangle guard in place across her chest. All that was left was the thin strip of leather that wrapped securely around her forehead to pin her wayward, board straight locks in place.

Swallowing the lump that had clogged her throat, Rayne padded lightly over to the door and slipped out into the courtyard of the military compound of the Ascalon Academy. In truth, she wasn't used to the scene of the training grounds in the big city. She had spent the last year in Fort Ranik, only now being called up to Ascalon City. Not that it really mattered where she was, of course. It all looked the same anywhere you went.

Rayne marched along the dismal gray, soot-stained walls, down the flight of broken stairs to the gateway that led to the city, or what was left of it. In another season or so, the anniversary of the Searing would come again. It would be the second year since the Charr had broken through the Great Northern Wall. And even after those two years, the once lush and beautiful land of Ascalon had not recovered.

The Charr had rained flaming crystals down on the kingdom, scorching all they touched to a barren husk of its former self. The greenery withered to browned bracken and parched earth, riddled with craters where the iridescent purplish crystals still protruded from the day they had landed. _They would have been pretty_, Rayne thought, _were they not_ _nestled in between tattered scraps of homes and blackened dirt_.

For that was what she saw when she stepped out, nodding curtly to the watchman on duty. Very little remained of the once pearly white stone, and what did was now so black and crumbly that most was unsafe for use. The only satisfaction she had as she sucked down a deep gulp of morning air, pungent with the scent of ash and smoke, was that the people of Ascalon hadn't surrendered yet. The Charr hadn't won two years ago, or since. And they never would for that matter, so long as there was still one Ascalonian left.

"Come to the fore, O sons of Ascalon" she sang quietly under her breath, striding purposefully in the direction of the cluster of tents in the center of the ruined town. The rest of the words to the song muffled themselves in her throat as she walked, but she kept humming the tune. It shushed the strident memories that refused to quiet themselves as she walked through the remains of what had once been.

Making her way back to the merchant square in the back, Rayne peered around the corner and sauntered over to the tent nestled in the far corner. It was the only one that even so much as looked lively so far that early in the morning.

As she approached, the sound of something heavy crashing to the ground and the mutterings of a string of expletives broke the misty stillness. A robed figure emerged from the back, hobbling slightly as he brushed aside the threadbare cloth divider just as Rayne stopped in front of the counter.

"Morning, Cale," she said as brightly as she could manage. The scraggly head of unkempt wood brown hair jerked up from staring at the ground, grinning in what could be construed as a sadistic smirk as Caleb Kohlman noticed his visitor.

"Well, what do we have here?" he said, setting his left foot gingerly back on the ground, tapping it twice to test it and wincing both times. His right hand fiddled with the patch over his eye while his other smoothed the rumpled folds of his long garments, suggesting that he had only been awake for a couple minutes tops. "If it isn't Little Dalca." Rayne scowled. "What brings you here this fine morning?"

"You know exactly why I'm here," Rayne replied, drumming her fingers on the countertop.

"Hmm… Could it be that you've come to tell me how devilishly sexy this eye patch is again? Aww, come now, Rayne. You shouldn't tease a man like that." Rayne snorted, folding her arms across her chest with a wrinkle in her nose. Ever since he had lost his eye during the Searing, Cale had wasted as much breath as possible in his boasting. He claimed that the Charr, Dahgar, the Eye of Flame, had taken it from him in a fight to the death that hadn't been finished. "Alright, alright. Don't worry. I know why you're here," he said with a sigh as her eyes narrowed to a piercing glare.

He pressed the tips of his forefinger and thumb together, placing the linked digits into his mouth to give a shrill whistle. After a few minutes, the cloth was swept aside once more to reveal a young girl with brilliantly white hair tied in pigtails holding a long wooden box.

"Morning, Aika," Rayne said to her old friend. The girl nodded to her to show that she heard and set the box down between Cale and Rayne before taking several steps backward. Aika was the real reason that Cale had lost his eye—she had been trapped inside the burning rubble of her house when it had collapsed during the Searing and Cale had happened by in time to rescue her. Whether it was from the massive amounts of smoke she had choked down during the time she had been trapped or from the screaming she had done, Rayne wasn't sure, but she hadn't spoken a word since then.

"Right, here it is," Cale said, flipping the latch on the box and lifting the lid. Inside, resting on a velvety cloth, was a bow crafted from what appeared to be maple wood. Each limb had been cut in a smooth, hollow triangle, fixed together with a rounded handle fitted with a ribbed grip. Stifling a gasp, Rayne lifted the bow from its resting place, turning it over and over in her hands to get a look at the new weapon from every angle.

"It's beautiful…"

"Listen up, missy. The bowyer I took it to told me that he had to shorten the limbs and round out the belly some to fix it. He said that it's more powerful and has a much smoother draw now, but your range is going to be a little less than you're used to."

"Thanks so much, Cale! I knew I could count on you!"

He grunted and pulled out a capped quiver from somewhere within the folds of his robe, holding it by the strap out to her. "You know I can't not help my best friend's sister. There are some swan-fletched arrows in there, since I know you're not much of one for recycling."

"Thanks, Cale," she repeated with a croak, slinging the strap over her shoulder so that the quiver rested across her back. The sniff crept on her, striking quickly to bring a faint flush to her cheeks.

"And I know you probably won't listen to a word I say, but please try not to do anything stupid, will you? I'd hate to have to tell your mother that something happened to her child once she gets back." Rayne nodded, grip on the handle of her bow tightening until her knuckles turned white.

"I'll try my best," she said with a wave as she walked away from the counter, making her way over to the staircase that led up to the great fountain that had run dry. Normally, she would stop by her mother's house before going to her post, except that she was now in Ascalon City and her mother was away on a trip with Lady Althea Barradin. She was truly alone now, left with only the half piece of the locket her mother had given her two years previously.

She stopped at the edge of the fountain, absentmindedly twirling the graven face of the goddess, Lyssa, between her fingers, trying not to remember what the fountain had looked like in earlier times. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, bringing its illuminating glow to the destruction that had consumed the whole world. Tearing herself away with a hurried salute to Warmaster Tydus as he hustled by, Rayne tromped up the second flight of stairs on her way to the fort in the Great Northern Wall.

A monk stood bowed at the waist before the mural of the goddess, Dwayna, hands pressed together in front of her chest. She looked up when the sound of footsteps echoed in the mural courtyard and waved merrily to the newcomer, inviting her to come over. Rayne hesitated for only a moment before changing her course to walk over to the girl.

Ashe fon Fabre was her name. Rayne had had the pleasure of meeting her several times in Fort Ranik. She wasn't sure whether or not she could call the girl a friend or not, but she supposed that she was as close as it got considering the fact that Aika couldn't talk and Gwen had been missing since the Searing.

"Praise be to Dwayna for the sunrise this morning," Ashe said as Rayne drew near, bowing once more to the gigantic mural that stretched upward higher than Rayne could comfortably crane her head back to see.

"And an extra curse on Grenth for all the death before dusk yesterday," Rayne mumbled just loud enough for the two of them to hear. Ashe swiveled around to face her companion, stray strands from the twin buns wrapped close on either side of her head swinging as she moved.

"Is something bothering you?"

"Not really… Just… I dreamed about my father last night…"

"I'm sorry for your loss, Rayne," Ashe said softly. "It's been close to a year now, hasn't it?" Rayne nodded once, swallowing hard. "It's hard, but he's in the hands of Grenth now. He is at peace."

"I hope you're right." Ashe patted her comfortingly on the back, bending around to look at the side of Rayne's stony face trained on the crack in the wall right in front of her.

"Often times, it helps to present your problems to the ones who have power enough over all things." Ashe looked back up at the mural of the angelic woman, surrounded in the snowy feathers of her own wings. "Would you like to pray with me this morning?" Rayne bit her lower lip, and jerked her head from side to side once.

"What good does it do to turn to those who abandoned us in the first place? The gods don't have any more control over it than we do or they would have already helped," Rayne replied, rotating her neck around to locate the other four murals on the walls of the pentagon shaped hall. "But…maybe you could say an extra one for me…?" Ashe smiled and nodded gently, removing her hand to let Rayne take the step backward.

"May Dwayna guide your steps," Ashe murmured to her as Rayne took her leave, taking another step backward before spinning on her heels to head off in the direction of the fort in the Wall.

Buzzing mutters and only half-concealed whispers followed her on her way, passing from soldier to soldier like the rumor mill in a beehive. _The daughter of Warmaster Dalca_, they all said. Rayne shamelessly thrust her chin forward, bangs framing the side of her face sliding back to expose her defiantly locked jaw to the world. She stormed through the arched gateway, partially drooping from its rusted hinges.

"Dalca!" The resounding shout echoed through the little fort outpost, turning all heads in the direction the voice had come from. Rayne winced, but snapped to attention, booted heels clicking together in sync with her right fist hitting her chest, parallel to the ground. The shiny white tin can armor of Captain Calhaan was elbowing its way through the crowds to come to an abrupt halt at her elbow.

"Sir!"

"I was wondering when you'd finally get here. Come with me." Rayne jerked her head in a stiff head bob, falling in step behind her superior as he led her up the stairs to the edge of the wall.

"Sir! What news of the Charr, sir?" Captain Calhaan stopped at the parapet, left hand coming to rest on his sheathed sword. Rayne halted several steps behind him, doing her best to remember her training from the past year.

Calhaan clinked and clanked as he lifted his arm to stroke the ends of his fine moustache. "Not a word of late. It's been too quiet. That's where you come in, Dalca." He spun around to face her, bringing Rayne snapping back into a full-fledged attention once again. "I have a sneaking suspicion that the Charr are massing for a massive raid against the remains of the Wall. Rumor even goes as far as to say that the cowardly enemy General, Bonfaaz Burntfur, will be among them. I want you to go and scout out the area, Dalca. Bring back news of the Charr movements north of the Great Wall."

Rayne pressed her lips together into one fine line, willing herself not to argue with the authority. Things had been different when her father had been alive, but… "With all due respect, sir," she spewed out before she could catch her traitorous tongue, "why bring me all the way north from Fort Ranik only for a scouting mission? I'm barely more than a recruit…"

"I trust you, Dalca, as I trusted your father." Rayne swallowed—hard—and found that there was no way she was going to be able to get the saliva past her horribly clogged throat. "There's a team waiting for you at the gate. I want a full recon—and no dead soldiers on my watch."

"Understood, sir!" Rayne saluted, turned about-face, and marched furiously away. Her rubber soles tapped out an angry rhythm against the charred stone of the structure, giving her arms a time to swing to. She closed her eyes, awkwardly jumping in a furious skip as she plodded down the stairway. _…As I trusted your father…_ She brushed a frustrated tear from its place under her eye, hoping that it looked like she was only wiping away a bit of dust that had gotten caught.

"'Bout time you showed up," said a familiar voice as soon as she jumped down the last couple stairs. She lurched forward at the unexpected sound, catching herself seconds before toppling over to land flat on her face.

"Devona!" The tall warrior grinned wickedly as she loomed over her, reaching toward the sky like a skyscraper. Her shoulder-length blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face, half pulled into a sloppy ponytail in the back.

"Gee, when they said that they'd be sending a big wig to come help us out, I thought they meant someone with more than just a big name." The second blonde head standing behind Devona sniffed disdainfully, fingers tapping on her arms as they rested against her chest.

"Cynn," her bald companion hissed, elbowing her in the side.

"Hi Mhenlo. Cynn. You guys are Captain Calhaan's team?" The monk, Mhenlo, bowed to her and Cynn clicked her tongue impatiently.

"That's right," Devona said, wrapping her fingers around the handle of her hammer. "Shall we get a move on, Dalca?" Rayne nodded and Devona smiled, placing a hand on her head to ruffle her hair. Ends of her lips curling up in a playful grimace, Rayne swatted her hand away and trotted after them as they made their way out of the gate into the dismal dirt wasteland that the Northlands had become.

Even after two years, the sight of the wreckage the Searing had left behind twisted her heart into intricate knots. Nothing lived there now, with the only exceptions being the devourers and gargoyles. Rayne daftly flicked her wrist, stringing the last end of the bowstring around the top arm of her new bow. The creatures of the Northlands would be no problem whatsoever.

"So, tell me," Cynn said, tossing her head to send her bangs flying out of her line of sight. "How good are you, little ranger?"

In response, Rayne fitted the nock of an arrow onto the string, drew it back to her chin with her right hand, swiveled to sight, and released into the bracken lining the road. The squeal of pain echoed across the road and the gargoyle stumbled forward, landing in a lump.

"Ho, ho. Watch out, Cynn," Devona crooned. "Looks like there might be another child prodigy running loose." Cynn snorted, delicate robe swishing around her knees as she stomped ahead.

"I doubt that. Surviving takes more than bulls-eyeing gargoyles on a lucky shot."

"Sure you can take care of _yourself_ alone, Cynn?" Rayne fired back. Flames sparked along Cynn's arms, dancing tamely at her beck and call.

"Listen here chickee," she said menacingly. "If you don't think I can take care of myself, just ask the Charr warband who tried to sack my home during the Searing. Oh, wait… They didn't live long enough to be asked. Guess that answers your question."

Mhenlo placed a hand on Cynn's shoulder, quieting in the fire roiling across her upper body. The bald monk pointed up the road the four of them were walking along in the direction of a structure that appeared to have been long since abandoned by the Ascalonians.

"Jackpot," Devona breathed. The four picked their way through the scattered rubble, crawling through the hole that had been blasted in the great wooden doors. There wasn't much left of the old building. Bits and pieces of the crumbly walls jut into the sky like the teeth of a homeless beggar that had been in one too many fistfights and had never made the acquaintance of a toothbrush.

At a motion from Devona, the four of them ducked down, creeping along on bent knees as they tried to get a glimpse of the area around. Pillars of smoke rose in billowing fingers toward the sky from the surrounding countryside.

"Charr," Mhenlo whispered as he sidled close to the edge of the far wall, peering around to the lands beyond. "And lots of them." Rayne had to stifle a gasp when she drew close to him. Hundreds of Charr warbands had clustered together, gathered around the massive bonfires, guttural growls audible even from the distance.

"Captain Calhaan was right," Devona growled. "Bonfaaz Burntfur. That demon…" The highly ornamented beast stalked through, glimmering beads and pendants swinging to and fro as he passed along.

"Nothing that ugly deserves to live long," Cynn said, just loud enough for them to hear. "I think Charr barbeque is on the menu tonight."

"Not now, Cynn," Devona said. "There's too many of them for just the four of us. We can't risk it, especially when Calhaan is waiting for us. Don't do anything to draw attention."

Rayne gulped, mouth suddenly very dry. "Umm… Devona…" she said, voice scratchy and weak. Devona turned to her, concern etching its way into her eyes at how white Rayne's face had become. Rayne pointed toward the Charr camps, trying her hardest to generate enough spit to spare. The beasts were suddenly on the move, and coming in their direction fast. "I think it's too late for that. They've spotted us…"


	6. Line Up Those Trebuchets!

"Pull back to Fort Ranik!"

Minutes had become hours and hours had become years—such was the nature of sieges. They were all really just endurance tests. He who could withstand the most punishment for the longest period of time was hailed the survivor. There were no winners when it came to that sort of fighting, but there were definitely losers. The order couldn't have come at a better time…

_But not quite yet_, Rayne thought, mechanically nocking one of the swan fletched arrows and drawing the string back to her jaw. She, Devona, Cynn, and Mhenlo had run for their lives, dodging warband after warband on their fleet footed return to the Great Wall. She could still hear her heart pounding away like a bass drum in her ears, quieter now that she had found a nook in the parapet overlooking all of those warbands she had narrowly avoiding, sliding through the gates close enough that one edge scraped her back while the other side flirted with the tip of her nose.

Taking careful aim, she released the string, tension unwinding smoothly as the arrow was flung on its trajectory straight down into the skull of one of the furry beasts hacking away at the solid wooden gates. The creature fell where he stood as splinters from the doors arced in a circle from one particularly forceful blow. The smug grin that had been teasing the corners of her mouth had learned by then to just stay hidden for the time being. As soon as one Charr fell, another one would step forward to take its place—and this time was no different.

Rayne clicked her tongue, stringing another arrow onto her bow and pulling it back to her jaw. There were just too many.

"Pull back! Pull back!"

Ascalonians were scattering down below, fleeing from the collapsing doors and the oncoming Charr. They were spilling through, like a tide of fur and flame sloshing haphazardly through the wrecked walls. Rayne watched helplessly from her perch as the brave turned back to buy their comrades some time to escape. She loosed three more arrows into the encroaching wave before finally unstringing her bow and crawling back down the narrow shaft of broken stone to the main path and her way out of the fort in the Wall.

Men and women alike in the red uniform of the Ascalonian army streamed past, easily absorbing Rayne into their midst once she jumped down into the throng. She stumbled slightly as her right ankle rolled, biting her lip to quell the cry of pain in her throat. She stumbled, but managed to keep her footing, even as jostled by the crowds as she was.

The growls were louder now, bouncing around the stone walls to make it seem like their beastly pursuers were coming in from all sides, regardless of what impediments stood in their way. Rayne winced as her right foot came down hard on an uneven patch of stone from the twinge in her sore ankle and the deep, ropy scars that lined her leg. She had never been able to forget what it felt like to have razor claws tearing her leg to pieces, racked by most unpleasant memories every time a Charr came near.

She burst through the open gates into the open lands to the south. There would be nothing but red dust hills and shriveled bracken to hide behind all the way to Fort Ranik now. Taking the last opportunity, she spun around and loosed an arrow back into the bundles of swarming fur before wheeling around and darting off after the rest of the soldiers that had escaped.

It wasn't long before the fireball exploded on the ground to the left of her feet, sending her flying in a wild jump to the right. _Zigzag_, she breathed to herself. Veering sharply off to the right, Rayne heard the crackling of flame striking dirt in the space she had just been. She changed course abruptly, pumping her legs back and forth as fast as she could make them go. _Got to get away!_

There was a stitch in her side long before the ten minute mark. Grimly pressing her free hand to her side, Rayne set her jaw and kept going, ignoring the internal fire searing through her limbs. Her heart was working overtime, pounding molten blood hot with adrenaline through her system. The Charr were still hot on their tails.

It was only after nearly forty minutes of intense fear that the sight of the other fort came into view. Rayne's legs felt like jelly, wobbling as she forced them to cover the rest of the distance. Her right ankle was numb, only susceptible to a jarring pain every time her foot landed in a hole or on a rough patch.

Soldiers were streaming out of the fort, coming to the aid of the ones fleeing for their lives. As soon as she was safely immersed in the throng of men and women defending the fort did Rayne stop running, pivot around already with an arrow in hand, and send it off with the volley from the other archers. _They _will_ die_, she thought, releasing another shot into the approaching mass of armored fur and fire.

The warriors drew their blades and axes as the Charr army drew closer. _We can't lose_, she thought as she nocked another arrow. _This is Ascalon! We can't fall!_

"First Lieutenant Dalca!" said a voice close to her ear. Rayne jumped slightly, nerves getting the better of her. She looked out of the corner of her eye as she shot another arrow to find its mark in the back of one Charr deadlocked with a soldier. A man with the Vanguard symbol on his left shoulder had made his way close to her, holding a feathered bow and a black-tipped arrow between his fingers. "Please make your way into the fort, First Lieutenant," he continued, firing a shot in one fluid motion.

Rayne almost argued with him before the full extent of her fatigue slammed into her face with the force of a ton of bricks. Now that she stopped to think about it, she could barely keep her footing and her arms were shaking bad enough that she had almost feathered a couple of her own men as opposed to the Charr they had been fighting. Reluctantly, she nodded to him and backed away, joining the thin stream of soldiers making their way inside to safety.

Only once the thick walls of stone enveloped her could Rayne finally breathe a sigh of relief. Fort Ranik had been her home since the Searing. There was nothing in the world like returning home. She made her way out to the square and stopped, closing her eyes as she let the adrenaline in her body quiet. The imagined quiet of the countryside settled around her ears and for the briefest second, Rayne could see Ashford. Hear the sounds of the children playing and the birds chirping their joyful songs. Feel the kiss of the wind as it flirted with the green grass and the gentle dusting of the water droplets cascading in a mist from the waterfall. There was her mother, her brother, and her father waiting for her at the front door of her house. But when she opened her eyes, the image faded back to the memories of her heart. There was no one waiting for her now.

"Rayne Dalca!" She spun around, searching for the source of the light tenor that had called her name. The tall figure was elbowing his way through the thin crowds, waving to her when she finally caught sight of him.

"Prince Rurik," she said, brushing a strand of hair that had come loose from her headband back behind her ear as he drew close. The thick chestnut colored moustache stretched almost flat as the prince beamed at her, coming to a stop only a couple of steps away. "What brings you here, milord?"

"I was just passing through. I thought I'd stop in and say hello actually." Rayne had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't really telling the truth. The red rims etching an outline around tired eyes and the five o'clock shadow creeping around his jaw line was enough to suggest that he had been working like a zealot again and only forced into much needed rest. Whatever the reason was, however, Rayne was glad to see him. "When I got here though, they said that you were away."

Rayne nodded once. "Oh, yes. I was on duty in Ascalon City."

"Then you were with the ones that just arrived from the Wall." Rayne nodded a second time, trying desperately to ignore the sounds of clicking metal and raucous explosions shaking the area just beyond the safety of the fort. "Praise be to Dwayna that you survived. I'd hate to have to tell your brother that something had happened to his beloved sister…once he returns."

The blood in her veins instantly froze, retreating from her face until she was the color of the Wintersday snow that had only just melted a few short weeks before. Vanguard Captain, Gailardia Dalca, had been the commanding officer in an offensive in Charr Territory far north of the Wall little more than a year ago, just after the death of their father actually. Only a few men had returned from the campaign and no one had heard a word from Gai since. Not even his own family…

"My brother's never coming back," Rayne answered bitterly, clenching her fists by her side. He had left her and her mother alone…forever. The pressure of the heart-shaped half locket pressed into her chest, suddenly much warmer than it had been seconds before as her consciousness drifted down to it. Her brother carried the other half…

Rurik clicked his tongue impatiently, snapping Rayne's attention back to him. "There's one thing I will never let you do, Rayne Dalca." Rayne tilted her head inquiringly, drawing a half smile from Rurik. "Don't ever lose hope." Her eyes widened in shock as her head righted itself and Rurik chuckled. "I believe in your brother. I have faith that I will see him alive again someday. And you should too because nothing good ever comes from doubting those you love. Remember that, little Dalca."

"Rurik," Rayne murmured, mouth open in her surprise. She clamped her hand over her mouth and bobbed her head respectfully. She had forgotten that she was speaking to Ascalon's prince and not another childhood friend again. Rurik didn't seem to care much, but she still felt uncomfortable. "I…"

"There is one thing I wanted to ask you," he said, cutting her off in mid breath. Rayne hurriedly closed her mouth and nodded. "Have you heard word from your mother or Althea recently?"

Rayne licked her lips and shook her head jerkily. Lady Althea Barradin's acting troop had decided to take a tour in the western regions of Ascalon. As her mother was a part of the troop, she had more than willingly accompanied Duke Barradin's daughter. Rayne had wished her well before Fiona Dalca had left, but that had been many weeks ago. "Have you heard anything, milord?"

"I'm afraid not," Rurik said with a defeated sigh. "I suppose no news is good news, but… I just hope that my beloved Althea has not come to any danger."

"I…I'm sure things are just fine. We'll hear from them soon enough."

"That we will. Never lose hope. It is the one thing that can make all the difference in a man's will to live." Rurik cleared his throat, shuffling his right foot along the ground to shift his weight to a more comfortable position. "Now, I have but one more question for you, Dalca." Rayne titled her head inquiringly. "I will not allow these Charr to breach any further into our lands. I plan on driving them all the way back and reclaiming Drascir. Would you care to join me in this venture, Lieutenant Dalca?"

"Drascir?" Rayne asked, drumming her fingers on her chin thoughtfully. "That far north? Do you really think we can take back the old capital?"

"Damned if I'm just going to sit here and think about it." The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, smug determination lighting up her gemstone blue eyes. She nodded only once, feeling the rush of excitement wash through her veins as the fire from her own gaze suddenly burned to life in the face of her friend.

"Gentlemen!" Rurik shouted for the whole courtyard to hear, stopping soldiers in their tracks and halting whatever progress was being made. "Line up those trebuchets! We're marching north!" A raucous cheer erupted throughout the fort, driven to even higher ranks of enthusiasm with the knowledge that Prince Rurik was going to lead them onward.

It didn't take long for the soldiers to get ready, lining the catapults up along the wall and setting the small boulders of black rock ablaze. They would burn in the metal nets until the long arms of the launchers sent them flying into a flurry of explosions on the ground where their enemies waited. Rayne had taken the time to tend to her injured ankle, smothering it in an ointment that Ashe had given her to help soothe the swelling. That and a tight bandage would have to be enough for now.

She took her place down at the north gate, standing patiently beside her heavily armored prince. He looked like a gigantic beacon flashing in the torch light of the fort standing soldier still in his golden armor. His flaming sword, Sohothin, clutched securely in his right hand only added to the effect.

The order came and the trebuchets were finally launched into action, sending their flaming loads careening into the masses of the Charr army still outside the wall. Rayne counted the rounds in her head, waiting for the magic number when the doors would be opened for the Ascalonians to make their way out into the wastes—_one…two…three…four…_

When the pulleys operating the doors clanged to life, Rurik sprang forward to be the first out of the gate before it was even halfway up. Rayne quickly jumped after him along with the rest of the Ascalonians. Together they charged over the rocky terrain, many of the men shouting out war cries as they made their way out into what was left of the Charr. The trebuchets had done their job, reducing the numbers of the invaders drastically. It was no problem for the Ascalonians to sweep through the remaining Charr now, driving the beast back north.

It was a long way to Drascir, farther north than even Surmia, which had foolishly been built outside of the protection of the Great Wall. Rayne stayed close to Rurik the entire time, doing her best to aid the prince where she could. Everyone had to work together if they were going to make it to the old capital of Ascalon.

"Tell me again why we're doing this," Rayne shouted with a small laugh over the din of the fight. Rurik spun around to cover her blind side, taking out the Charr that had strayed too far from its warband just for a chance at her.

"Because its fun," Rurik answered with a boyish grin on his face. "And the sheer fact that my Lord Father would not approve makes it all the more enjoyable." The prince charged forward, engaging two Charr at once in a deadly riposte until Rayne caught up and took out the one on his right. "High and mighty King Adelbern. The greatest king of all Ascalon since the days of King Doric, but the greatest fool of them all. We should take the fight to the Charr rather than sit cowering in our defenses. Only through the offensive will the Charr be driven from our lands!"

Pursing her lips, Rayne fired another shot, taking two steps forward and one step back in the deadly dance she was participating in. The disparity of the ideas between King and Prince were well known throughout Ascalon. With any luck, she hoped, the two would be able to come to terms eventually and work together on both an offensive _and_ defensive strategy for this fight.

"You know, Rayne," Rurik said after a time. "I just remembered something. When I was much younger, I attended the Academy of the Arcane Arts in Drascir. I remember… The Academy held the mouthpiece of the legendary horn, Stormcaller, which is in its sister school in Nolani. If we can make it to Drascir, perhaps we can find the mouthpiece and make use of the horn against the Charr."

It was worth a try. Rayne didn't understand much of the intricacies of magic. Gai had always been the one gifted in the art of manipulating the world through his gift of power. He would know exactly what powers Stormcaller had and how it would best be used to their advantage. All she could do was shrug her shoulders and keep running, praying, for Rurik's sake, that he was right.

The Charr were thinning out the farther north they pushed, scattered now into a few warbands here and there, which were easy enough for the Ascalonians to pick off. It was a tiring process, but Rayne felt the adrenaline coursing through her like a poison, giving her energy where she otherwise would have already run out. The Great Wall had passed by not too long ago. They were on their way.

"Instead of ponds and streams we have pools of bubbling tar and rivers of sludge," Rurik commented as they marched along the banks of one such river. The smell was atrocious, wrinkling the noses of even the men who had been raised out of a gutter. "It saddens me to see Ascalon in ruins. We must fix it." Rayne silently agreed.

Before long, they came to a cluster of Charr prisoner cells constructed of bones and hides. With a stifled sob, Rayne broke away from the group she had been traveling with and charged over to stare, wide-eyed, into the cell. Haggard and wan men stared back out at her with pleas dropping from their mouths like the saliva of a starving dog. Each was dressed in the tattered remains of professional Elementalists. Rayne recoiled, pressing a hand over her mouth in the hopes of quieting her rebelling stomach. She recognized the uniform. These men had once been a part of the Order of the Flaming Scepter. _Gai_, she thought with a staggering breath. _Please don't let him be here… Keep him safe, but don't let him be here…_

Rurik joined her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder before bellowing orders to the men following him to release the bars on the cages. One by one, weak and pale faced men stumbled out into the daylight, many of them collapsing in the arms of their saviors.

"What is your name?" Rurik asked one of the men that appeared to be steady on his feet.

"You are Prince Rurik, are you not?" the man asked in a raspy wheeze, placing a hand over his heart. Rurik nodded. "Thank Balthazar that you have come to us. My name is Erol," he continued, bobbing his head so that his mat of mousy gray unkempt hair fell down into his eyes.

"You are with the Flaming Scepter, right?" Rayne prompted eagerly, trying her best to ignore the crisscross scars that looked like a child's cross-stitch lining his arms and legs. Erol nodded when the guttural grunt in his throat would not let words pass. Rurik called for a skin of water, which he handed to the man before he would allow Rayne to continue. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. Since my unit was taken when the sky rained fire and destroyed Ascalon."

"You've been at the mercy of the Charr since the Searing?" Rurik asked incredulously. "It's been two years!"

"Has it? We are in your debt, Highness. We would not have survived much longer had you not arrived when you did."

"He wouldn't be here then," Rayne muttered to herself, relief and a small bit of disappointment flooding her system. The comment earned her another shoulder pat from Rurik, drawing a blush to her cheeks as that meant that he had heard her.

"We are on our way to Drascir," Rurik told him. "We are looking for the mouthpiece of the legendary horn, Stormcaller. Perhaps, as a Flaming Scepter from Drascir, you might know of its current location."

"Milord," Erol gasped as he choked on the mouthful of water he had been drinking. "Milord, in fact, my unit was in charge of the protection of the piece. We have it here and have kept it safe from the Charr. We were on our way to Rin with it originally when our unit was captured."

"Where is it?" Rurik asked, a hunger in his eyes that sent a small shiver down Rayne's spine.

"In the cell," Erol said, using his thumb to gesture in the direction of the hut-like structure he had been released from. Rurik clapped a thankful hand to the man's shoulder, motioned to Rayne, and marched over to the structure Erol had pointed out. Lying in the dust was a small horn in its own right, once a beautiful ivory white leafed in brilliant gold, it was now stained a pale dusty red from the years it had spent in hiding.

Gingerly lifting the piece from the ground, Rurik turned it over in the palms of his hands, face carved in an expression of awe.

"With this, Rayne, we can save Ascalon. I know we can."

"I sure hope so," she replied, mouth very dry as she tried to force herself to believe that they had finally found the end all answer to their problems. There was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach though that kept clenching an iron fist around her thoughts.

"First, we will take these men back to the Wall. Then, let us go to Nolani. Together we will fix the wrong done to our kingdom. Things will be better soon." Rurik thrust out a clenched fist between them and Rayne placed a hand on top of it.

Hope was not yet gone for Ascalon.


	7. In My Mother's Footsteps

It had been one week already. The season had officially changed from spring to summer and for once, the hills surrounding the Wall were devoid of Charr growls. Despite his earlier noble thoughts of staying behind to help the men rescued from beyond the wall, Rurik had been summoned away by a messenger from King Adelbern. One week, he had said. One week was all he would need to be away for and that she should remain at the wall for that amount of time.

From there, she should leave and make her way to Nolani and the Academy of the Arcane Arts that waited there.

Cinching the last strap on her pack closed, Rayne stood and shouldered the bag. Her destination lay many miles to the west and the road would not be easy to traverse. It was for that reason that she had turned down a horse and a small contingent of soldiers that had been suggested to accompany her. Her superiors were of a mind to not let her go regardless, but they could not argue with the prince. In the end, they all had settled on one temple monk to go with her on her journey.

Rayne couldn't help but tap her foot impatiently on the stone floor outside of the guardhouse. The monk was late and she was eager to be on her way. The arrows in the quiver on her back jiggled against the sides of their container as she fidgeted, providing the only rhythmic beat to be heard that morning.

_I'm going on an adventure_, she thought to herself while she waited. _I'm going to walk the same trails as my mother, for the most part. Maybe I'll run into her on my trip._ The thought brought a smile to her lips. She had missed her mother in the time she had been gone.

A voice shouting her name brought her sharply back to reality, blinking in a dazed manner as if the voice alone had been enough to slam her head into the brick wall behind her. She looked around wildly, rigidity spreading to her limbs and a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she noticed the unmistakable course brown habit of a female monk making her way through the thin crowds of the morning.

"Ashe!" Rayne called back, waving as the little monk trotted over to stand beside her. "They're sending you with me?"

"Yes," Ashe replied. "Serenity Temple has its hands full at the moment and I'm all they could spare to send along. I hope that's alright with you."

Rayne felt her lips twitch into what had to be the closest thing to a smile she had given in two long years. "Of course! There's no one I'd trust more!" Ashe's face lit up like a fireworks display, making Rayne feel that much better that morning. The day was turning out to be far more enjoyable than she had hoped. _Things can only get better from here on out_, she thought, nudging Ashe with her elbow to silently challenge her to a race out into the wilderness.

****************

"My brother used to tell me stories about this place."

It had taken them two days to travel from the Eastern Wall to the Breach, and from there to Piken Square. In his campaign, Duke Barradin had seized control of the little outpost, turning it into a small fort inside the wild Northlands territory.

"He said it was beautiful, with pearl white stone and little flowers and a big tree in the back there." Rayne pointed toward the end of the foot in the L-shaped fort. "And it was only home to the rabbits and the squirrels and the wild hogs that roamed the area. That even the Charr couldn't destroy its peace."

"I'm sure it was lovely once," Ashe agreed.

"Yes. But there's nothing lovely about red dust and soot scared walls. There's nothing lovely left in all of Ascalon now." Rayne leaned against the railing around the raised beds that had once held flowers, only to have the rust smitten metal buckle under her touch, falling to the earth in flakes and crumbs. She sheepishly straightened, but of all the people milling about the courtyard, she was certain that the snickering Ashe was the only one who saw. She elbowed her friend in the ribs.

"Oh, I don't know. I think 'lovely' is all a matter of perspective." Rayne suddenly felt like her legs were trapped in quicksand and that the rest of her was sinking rapidly, greedily sucked down to a suffocating end. She knew that voice.

Standing to her right, smug features stretching a grotesquely scarred right cheek, was the one person Rayne had hoped she wouldn't have to see again. There was no one else in the whole world that could look at her with as much contempt as this woman, tossing her customary fishtail braid back over her shoulder with that much disdain in her features, hardened by years of living alone in the open air. Alianne Longbranch had returned from her memories and nightmares to taunt her again.

"We meet again, Little Dalca." In the year she had been away from Ascalon, Alianne had acquired several creased lines on her forehead and an ever deepening nest of crow's feet accumulating around each of her eyes. She looked so much older than nineteen, but there was still enough life sparkling and dancing like a flame in her eyes that she could just as easily have been twelve.

"I have a name, you know," Rayne said tersely. She shook her head at Ashe's silent inquiry, keeping the rest of her attention on the woman before her.

Alianne threw back her head and laughed—a sharp, barking sound that suggested that she was laughing not because she found the situation to be funny, but rather because it was something to do to keep herself occupied. "That you do, and a title to go with it now I hear. _Lieutenant_ Dalca." Rayne shivered at the force in the words, trying her best not to recoil entirely. "What a pity. The Ascalon Army must be desperate indeed if they're willing to draft the last member of your family into its ranks."

"What do you mean?" Rayne asked, licking her lips. "I'm not the last. There's still my mother. And it's possible that…Gai is still alive."

"Are you sure about that? You haven't heard from either of them, have you? My, my. That would certainly seem to bode ill, wouldn't you agree?" It was true. She had asked Duke Barradin for news upon her arrival of her mother's troop, but he had had no word either.

"I don't believe you," Rayne said quietly, fists clenched tightly by her sides, quivering as she fought to keep herself from hitting her brother's old friend.

"You don't have to," Ali said with a shrug. She sauntered over, crossing in front of where Rayne and Ashe were standing, passing them by very slowly. "But tell me this, Little Dalca," she continued, stopping an arm's length away. "Will you still defend this godforsaken country even with the knowledge that there's no one left here that you care about?"

Rayne closed the distance between them with a single step, staring at the corner of the older woman's eye showing from her exposed profile. "Ascalon is my home," she said with a deep growl, eyes the color of water surrounded on all sides by ice, frozen in place.

"You're far too noble," Ali murmured. "And foolish." She shoved Rayne in the chest, pushing her back over to where Ashe was still waiting. "Ascalon is dead and there are no homes to be found in tombs." Without another word, Alianne stalked away, absentmindedly shifting the quiver on her back as she went, completely oblivious to the murderous daggers Rayne was sending her with her stares.

Only after she was completely out of earshot did Rayne finally explode, fists jerking angrily as she stormed up the stairs leading to the world outside, Ashe following behind her helplessly like a lost puppy.

"Rayne…Rayne…. What's wrong? Who was that? Are you alright?"

There was no answer she could put into words. Her anger burned like a wound, stinging as the tender flesh under the outer layer was exposed to the bitter air and seeped blood in the tears of frustration that she could not bring herself to shed. They had their packs, so there was no need to return to Piken Square. Now was as good a time as any to get going, she reasoned. There would be no looking back. Not with that demon Alianne Longbranch behind them.

Eventually, Ashe fell silent, plodding along in Rayne's footprints with her head bent down toward the earth. The thin wisps of hair falling from the center of her twin buns swung back and forth like little pendulums as she walked. She didn't complain when Rayne rashly decided to take the trail down through the sludgy, tar-like river, wading along diligently even though the grimy water lapped up around her thin waist. She didn't chide when Rayne told her to stay put while she took care of a couple of stray Charr that had wandered too close to their path. Rayne had to bite her lip as Ashe cleaned and healed the wound she had taken from a Charr arrow in the encounter.

"I'm sorry, Ashe. I didn't mean to be such a jerk," she mumbled as her friend tended to the small cut on her forehead.

"It's okay. I understand," she replied with a smile. "I don't know that woman or what her relationship to you was, but she said some things that really were uncalled for." Rayne winced as the magic from Ashe's touch zipped across the cut, sealing the two flaps of skin back in their place without any seam left behind. Rayne thanked her, and stared around at the cliffs towering around them and guiding them along their chosen path.

"How far do you think we've come?"

Ashe looked around, slipping the small cloth back into the messenger bag she had slung across her right shoulder. "I'd say we've made it to the edge of the Diessa Lowlands probably. Do you think we can make it all the way to Nolani before dark?"

"Probably not. I think it would be best if we stopped in Grendich for the night tonight and continued to Nolani first thing tomorrow." The strawberry blond head bobbed in agreement and Rayne gingerly pushed herself to her feet, swaying lightly as she readjusted her balance. "C'mon. Let's get going or we really won't have anywhere to stay tonight."

They tromped along, legs brushing through the prickly bracken in the late afternoon sun, packs bouncing from side to side as they went. Rayne had never been that far west before, yet found herself in the lead of their two man procession, carefully scanning the road for signs that they were going in the right direction. They became increasingly harder to see as the afternoon wore on due to the thick fog that had started to accumulate, hovering in misty clouds of white vapor around them.

"There should be a fork around here somewhere," Rayne heard Ashe say from several feet behind her. A quick glance back showed her the ghostly silhouette shrouded in the fog stomping her feet down to prevent the burrs from sticking quite so much. "If you see it, we need to go to the right."

Rayne swiveled back around to the front, swatting away a patch of mist in a feeble attempt to make it disappear. She would have been stunned had the trick actually worked, but the fog just seemed to get thicker and thicker.

Suddenly, out of the gloom, Rayne noticed the split in the path. The two roads ahead of her met in a V, one snaking off into the hills on the right while the other meandered away toward the flatter land on the left

"Right, you said?" she called back to Ashe with a flick of her head to glance over her shoulder. Satisfied that her friend was still there, Rayne turned back to the front and felt her legs turn into lead, stopping her in the very middle of the road. Ashe crashed into her back, but Rayne didn't even flinch at the contact. She couldn't.

In between the two paths, shadowed in the foggy gloom was the outline of two people. Their outlines were hazy at best and seemed to absorb the fog swirling around them. There was an ethereal quality to them that made every hair on her body stand on end.

"Oh…Dwayna bless…," Ashe breathed, peering around her shoulder. Rayne's lip quivered and her right foot lurched forward awkwardly in a hesitant step.

"Mother," she murmured with a stutter. The two women seemed to notice they were not alone anymore, muttering between themselves before gliding over to stand a few feet from them. Even up close, both of them were see-through and pale. One of them was dressed in a noble looking traveling dress that ended above her knee in the front and almost dragged the ground in the back with thigh-high boots. The other was dressed much simpler in tight fitting hose with a whiter turtleneck and a jacket the same dusky hue of the hose.

That was the woman that Rayne couldn't take her eyes off of. She had met the young noble standing beside her before once or twice, but she had been much littler in those days. But the one that had always been there, the one she had known from her first day alive was hovering before, opalescent and misty and altogether no longer the woman she had been.

"Mother," she repeated, reaching out her right hand to try to touch the apparition in front of her and gasped when her fingers passed through what felt like liquid ice. "Mom. No…."

Fiona Dalca smiled faintly, returning the gesture of her daughter, but stopping just before her ghostly hand met the living flesh before her.

"It's me, Rayne," she confirmed, voice light as the whispering wind. "I'm glad I finally found you, my precious little girl."

Rayne stumbled forward another step, staring hungrily into the face of the woman facing her.

"I wanted to see you again…one last time before the Mists claimed me."

Rayne shook her head violently, her red hair whipping her cheeks to leave a pale rusty pallor behind.

"But we lost our way and couldn't get back to you."

She stumbled again, both arms outstretched in the hopes that her mother would catch her, just like she had so many other times before. The gesture was there, but the solid warmness of flesh and bone was gone—forever.

"Mom!" Rayne sobbed. "What happened?"

"We were attacked by a Charr warband," Lady Althea Barradin said, taking a step forward to be even with Fiona. "They seized those of the troop that they could and took us to their Flame Temple in the north where we were burned alive."

Rayne gasped, tears finally escaping the ironclad hold she had placed around them. They clouded her eyes, streaming down in thin trails through the dust coating her cheeks. She reached out a third time, but again, her hand only passed through the ghosts.

"Do not weep for me, Sweetheart," Fiona crooned, doing her best to lay a comforting hand on Rayne's head. "I have lived and I have loved. Dying wasn't so bad since I had those to help me through."

"Mommy, don't leave me!" Rayne shouted, fingers clawing through the hazy air, grasping for something that was now forever beyond her reach.

"I'll never leave you, Rayne-y. Wear the necklace I gave you, and I'll always be right next to your heart. I promise." Rayne grasped the half locket greedily in her right hand, tracing the familiar lines of the face of Lyssa with her thumb. "Promise me one thing though, Rayne. Promise me that you'll not think of revenge and that you'll leave Ascalon and live a happy life away from this war."

Rayne spun around to Ashe, a great fear and madness devouring the liveliness of her gaze that had been there before. She grabbed her friend around the shoulders, arms trembling violently with the effort. "It's not true, right? They can't be dead."

Ashe took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around a now inconsolably sobbing girl. "As the blessing of Dwayna guided your steps in life, may Grenth guard your shadow now in death," she murmured to the two women, bobbing her head in place of a full bow since Rayne had her pinned in place.

"My thanks to you," Fiona said, clasping her hands.

"If I may make one last request," Althea said, voice already fading some into the mist. Ashe released Rayne and together the two stood in front of the ghostly women, waiting for their last words. "I would ask you to take word to my father and to my beloved, Prince Rurik. I know it will grieve them to know the truth, but they deserve it." Both girls nodded to her, unable to find the words to convey the same meaning. Althea smiled, mouthing the words 'thank you' and the mist around them billowed, dissolving the thin outline of the young woman with it.

It swept over, blowing at the edges of Fiona's frame like a particularly strong gust of wind. In one last effort, Rayne charged forward, committing herself wholeheartedly to touching her mother one last time. She flung herself forward, passing through the mist and landing heavily on her shoulder in the dust. "I love you," Fiona whispered as the last of the fog reached up, wiping away the lines of her mouth with one gust.

And they were alone once again, standing at the fork in the road between the utterly silent hills.

"Rayne!" Ashe cried, running over and dropping down to place a hand on the weeping girl's shoulder. "Rayne, listen to me. We have to get moving." Rayne shrugged her off, leaping to her feet and racing off as if she had wings on her heels along the right road. Ashe sprang after her, but trailed behind quickly when her shorter legs couldn't keep up. Rayne ran all the way, ignoring the cuts from the numerous bushes she passed in a flurry and trudged through the lake of sludge that waited for her. She was following in her mother's footsteps.

The Flame Temple was up there. All she had to do was pass through the little corridor and she would be there. She strung the bow Cale had given her while pumping her legs as hard as they could go and released the catch on the lid to her quiver. Her mother's ashes were waiting at the end and she wasn't about to leave them to the Charr.

Those beasts had their sanctuary. It was there in that dismal place, surrounded on all sides by a flame that they tended with a care more devout than of a mother to her child. There were many, but she had just as many arrows, and they all had Charr written on the heads. She could not miss their great hides as they strutted past.

The first warband fell to her sniper shot from around a corner, as did the next. By the time Ashe finally caught up with her, she was already working on her fourth warband, relishing their grunts of agony as they dropped like furry weights. The monk tried to calm her at first, but there was nothing that could sate her anger. Not even the blood flowing freely like the newest river of sludge along the ground could appease her for long.

They all fell to her. Every last one. They came and they came and they dropped and they dropped until the tips of her fingers blazed in agony and her own blood trickled out from under the custom glove. She ignored the pain—all of it, including the few nicks from a blade and the newest arrow wound in her upper arm that made holding the bow taxing.

At last, the top of the altar in the center of the temple was under her feet, soaked in a torrential puddle of blood that ran toward the edges to create a sickening waterfall. Ashe had done her best to heal her as she went, but her limbs were still shaking from the effort. Close to a hundred Charr, all downed in a single burst of inhuman rage. It had brought her this far.

She stumbled forward toward the sacrificial bed, dropping to her knees as her weary fingers groped for the urns that the Charr had yet to discard. Her hands found the one on the right, drawing it in close to her chest.

"Mother!" she shouted to the now night sky, howling through her pain and her grief as the tears fell relentlessly to land on the plain earthenware jar cradled lovingly against her chest. It was all over.


	8. Victory or Martyrdom

She wouldn't wipe the dust from her hands. They hung limply by her sides as she trudged along, bouncing while she went to reveal the red grit staining her palms. Her feet marched purposefully forward, head set upright and facing the front with a determined, straight line almost penciled across her face in place of a mouth. The fact that the gunk left on her hands rubbed against the fabric of her pants every time she took a step, leaving a smear of what could have been dried blood flakes across her leg, didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.

Because Nolani was waiting at the end of the road.

And in Nolani, was the one man she hoped that she never would have to face again. For she had made the most horrible promise of anyone in the entire world.

"Rayne," said a small voice to her right, gently tugging on her sleeve and pointing toward something ahead. "Rayne, look. We're here."

She looked at the crumbling, haggard walls of stone rising from the dirt like the teeth of a homeless man. Each was broken and overgrown with a fungus that turned it all to a grungy black reminiscent of a smoke stigma. But none of this was what Ashe was pointing toward.

In the shadow of a vine infested archway stood a statue of a gargoyle, guarding a book and the shield of the Ascalon Vanguard with a demonic grin that showed off every one of his hooked fangs. Ashe raced forward, leaving Rayne to follow behind at a much slower pace, dropping to her knees on the side of the bricked monument. A plaque had been riveted there, but had been coated in a thick layer of dust, which she gently scooped from the engraved crevasses with her finger.

"'The life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness,'" she read aloud as Rayne's booted feet came to a halt beside her. "'This monument is placed in recognition of Ascalon's Chosen and all its members. May their dedication to the nation of Ascalon and the defense of the empire stand the test of the time.'"

Rayne traced the toes of her right foot through the tiny mounds of sandy dirt, raking them so that the smallest farmer in the world would have a place to plant his crops. "I think I understand what Alianne meant," she said at last, croaking raspy syllables after hours of not speaking. In fact, she realized, she hadn't said a word since she had returned Althea's ashes to her father, Duke Barradin. Ashe jumped back up to her feet, wrapping her slender fingers around Rayne's upper arm.

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head until the few strands of hair escaping her pigtail buns threatened to turn into wings. "Ascalon isn't dead! It's right here." The short girl gestured to the inscription. "And it's also right there." She pointed to the south of the ruins where Rayne knew the Academy of the Arcane Arts still stood. "There are people there that are still fighting for it."

"I know, but…." She couldn't say it. White hot tears stung her eyes and a great sob racked her shoulders, drawing Ashe's comforting arm around her.

"We can't do anything without our friends, Rayne. Together, all of us will make it through." Rayne sighed, nervously rubbing her dirty hands together. She looked down her shoulder into Ashe's beaming face and felt the faintest twinge curve the corner of her mouth into a fleeting smile. "C'mon. Let's go find the prince and the others."

The Order of the Flaming Scepter had managed to save the Academy from being decimated along with the rest of Nolani, but the post-searing conditions had done little to help the institution. Pillars remained upright, but chunks of polished stone had been eroded from the surfaces. Deep, gouging cracks traced ropy spider webs around the columns, spreading to the walls like an infestation. Murals that had been etched with painstaking care were now nothing more than chipped and partial stained glass, sad smiles of the painted figures all the more pitiable with the lines of the stone's wear creasing them.

It was like that everywhere, Rayne realized at last. From the very beginning, a small part of her had fervently believed that there was a part of Ascalon somewhere that had not been leveled by the Charrs' curse. As the years had passed, the belief had faded to a hope, only now to be shattered just like those walls as she finally saw the western half of the country with her own eyes.

Men and women in flowing robes of white and tan with the sparkling embroidery in electric orange and red of the Flaming Scepter Mages scurried everywhere inside the remnants of the Academy. Ashe and Rayne dodged each successive stampede, finally making their way out to stand on the ramparts that overlooked the lands to the south. The gates of Rin, Ascalon's capital chosen after Drascir's fall, lay not more than a stone's throw away from the Academy walls.

"Why did it come to this?" Rayne mumbled, placing both of her hands on the crumbling stones of the parapet. Ashe said nothing to her, but placed a warm hand on her arm to let her know that she was nearby.

The sound of familiar heavy footsteps from behind spun her around and stuffed her arms hastily behind her back. Prince Rurik was there, serious face breaking into a genuinely boyish grin when their eyes made contact. He stopped two strides from her, running the fingers of his gloved right hand through the shaggy chocolate hair on his head.

"Praise Balthazar that you're safe," he said as his last heel came to a stop on the stone wall. "When you didn't arrive yesterday as planned, we feared the worst."

"My apologies, sire," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Some things came up and it delayed us temporarily."

"Rayne, are you alright?" _Promise me_, the voice of the ghostly Althea reverberated through her mind. _Tell my father and my beloved for me_. She could see the pearly face, smiling warmly down at hers still made of flesh and blood. "Is something the matter?"

She dug her grimy nails into the skin on the side of her fingers, grimacing in a weak smile as she lifted her chin to look Rurik in the eye from such a close distance. "I'm fine," she said, lips sticking together at first as if her spit had glued them shut.

Rurik looked around as if he had just heard something whistle close by, awkwardly rocking on his heels once and cleared his throat.

"Well, that's good. We're…um…making a trip to Rin in the south today to return the mouthpiece of Stormcaller to Horn Hill. Would you care to join my team?"

A mission. Something to do to take her mind off the horrors that had pestered and plagued her conscious for the past twenty-four hours. Eagerly, Rayne nodded, elbowing Ashe in the ribs to tell her to do the same. Rurik grinned once again and whistled a summons. A figure sprinted up the stairs to her right, supporting a massive hammer across one shoulder as easily as if she was carrying a toothpick. A mop of hair colored like weathered straw bounced lively around her shoulders and she hailed them with a crisp, light tone of merriment to her voice that just seemed to be inherent to her nature.

"Devona!" Rayne shouted, gloomy thoughts melting away like ice in a desert as she ran over to embrace her friend. "You made it!" The two slapped hands and the older woman rubbed her knuckles affectionately on top of the younger's head, making Rayne squirm away just out of her reach.

"What? You didn't think I'd get lost, now would you?" She tilted her head to one side, loose ponytail holding the longer strands in the back drooping like some sort of strange tail. Rayne shook her head. "C'mon. Aidan, Cynn, and Mhenlo are waiting for us down by the gate."

"Onii-san?" Ashe gasped, taking a step toward them with a hand over her mouth. "My brother is here?"

"Oh, so you're Mhenlo's little sister," Devona said, snapping her fingers. "He's mentioned you a couple of times. Ashe, right?" The small girl bowed in response, which brought another smile to Devona's face. "He'll be happy that you're here and safe."

"Well, now that everything's settled, let's be off, shall we?" Rurik piped up, drawing the attention of the three gathered around him as he strode over to the staircase that Devona had just come up. All of the giddy emotion that had bubbled up to replace the dreaded emptiness in Rayne's core felt like it had just met its doom to a vacuum as her attention was shifted back to the present. Devona and the rest of her old family friends were alive and well, but there were others that weren't anymore. More importantly, the smile that Althea had given her was back.

Devona clapped her on the shoulder and turned to follow her prince down to the bottom level of the Academy. The two girls followed them, walking in step with one another all the way down.

"You never told me that Mhenlo was your brother," Rayne said so that Ashe was the only one who could hear her.

The strawberry blond head bobbed apologetically. "You never asked and I didn't think it important. But yes. We were born five years apart to a priestess of Dwayna from Cantha and a priest of Balthazar from Serenity Temple here in Ascalon."

"That's cool, I guess."

As promised, at the bottom of the stairs near the gates to the Academy were three people waiting on them to join the party—Mhenlo and Cynn were standing facing one another in the middle of an outspoken argument, while the third member, Aidan, leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his eyes closed as if it was nothing to ignore the conversation going on nearby.

Prince Rurik's presence quickly stemmed the word flow between them, but only momentarily since Cynn could barely keep herself from exploding if she didn't say something every couple of seconds. The seven members of the group exchanged greetings, some more excitedly than others Rayne noted as soon as Cynn noticed her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mhenlo and Ashe bow to one another, laughing inwardly as she realized the reason for Cynn's pursed lips. _Jealous_, she said to herself in a singsong. _Apparently Mhenlo didn't tell her about his family either._

But the moment of diversion came and went, returning abruptly with flashes of a remembered fog and trusting smiles as soon as the gates were opened for them. It was a clear day, fluffy cotton clouds reflecting the orangey light of the sun off of the reddened earth with still cool temperatures of the early summer. It was not a day of rest though, especially for her conscience.

They traveled the rutted road between the Academy and Rin, marveling at the three trees that still grew in the very center of the path. Rurik led the way with Aidan plodding along behind and mumbling advice to the prince. Rayne watched them from the very back of the column, feeling her heavy heart pound mercilessly against her ribs every time that Rurik would look back and laugh with the others at some joke that had just been told.

Finally mustering her courage, Rayne stormed forward, lengthening her strides until she was just a bound away from running to catch up with the prince. He had a helmet tucked securely under his arm and was still chuckling to himself when she caught up.

"Rurik, there's something I have to tell you," she gasped, suddenly slowing her pace and then finding that she had to climb the mound of rubble that created the path up to the gate into Rin. The prince cast a sidelong glance at her as he staggered upward, and nodded. "I…," she began but was cut off as they reached the top of the incline and were immediately confronted by a soldier.

"Milord," he said, clacking his heels together as he saluted by bashing himself in the chest with his fist. "Orders from His Majesty, the King, milord." Rurik acknowledged him with another nod, indicating he was to proceed. The soldier saluted him again. "I'm afraid, sire, that the King has ordered all of Rin to be closed off and the doors to be barricaded. No one is permitted entrance. Not even you, milord."

"What? Why has my father ordered such an act? Speak!" Rurik demanded, jamming the helmet down on top of his unruly hair.

"The Charr, Your Highness," the soldier stammered. "They slipped through our defenses only a few days ago and Rin has fallen. Word is that Bonfaaz Burntfur is among them and His Majesty doesn't wish to let him escape."

"So he holes them up in Rin instead?" Rurik exploded. He drew his sword from where it was belted on his left hip and raised it so that the tip was pointing directly toward the sun. Dancing flames erupted from the guard, spiraling down the ornately forged weapon until the entire blade was engulfed. Only then did he lower it back down and point it directly at the soldier in front of him. "You will open this door. Now."

Cowed by Rurik's display, the man scurried away, muttering and grumbling to himself. It didn't take long from there for the gates to open and the signs of smoke drifting upward near the horizon to be visible.

"Come, my friends," Rurik said, voice escalating as his eyes surveyed the new area in wide-eyed horror. "We will go to Rin's defense! To Horn Hill!" Devona, Cynn, and Aidan rushed forward, followed by Mhenlo and Ashe, charging down the stairs on the other side of the gate. Rurik made to follow them, but stopped when Rayne's hand clenched around his chain mail and leather sleeve.

He stopped in mid stride, looking back over his shoulder with concern in his eyes at her downcast face.

"I have to tell you this now," she whispered, fingers tightening their hold on him. Rurik pivoted to face her, taking her free hand into his own and turning it around to the ruddy palms.

"Why are your hands so dirty?" he asked.

Rayne took a shuddering breath, shivering with a sudden, unnatural chill. She couldn't look him in the eye. "When the Charr came through a couple of days ago," she began, raspy voice almost inaudible. "They…uh…captured the acting troop that left from Ascalon City several weeks ago." Rurik's brow knitted together as the words left her, shadowing the deep brown eyes with what almost seemed like fear. But that couldn't be it because Rurik was one person in the world that she had never seen fear anything. "No…no one survived. I met with the ghosts…of my mother and Lady Althea…on the way here and…umm…."

Her hand dropped back to her side as Rurik released it. She took another breath, all too aware of the severed contact, but she had to finish telling it now that she had started. "I…returned what was left of Althea to Duke Barradin…and buried my mother's ashes…with my own hands." Rurik was silent and still, as motionless and void as a marble statue that had had its head blown off in an explosion. He just needed to say one thing. Just one thing to tell her that he had heard. "They asked me to tell you what happened…and Althea wanted you to know that she…she loved you." By the end, the tears were threatening to break through the damn she had erected overnight.

And still Rurik didn't say anything. He bobbed his head to her severely quivering lip and spun around. He was upset. She could tell. He would do something stupid before the end, just as she had done the day before. Why had she told him then, just before they went into battle? Why hadn't she just waited until after?

It had been to clear her own conscience, but the act of telling hadn't done anything to ease her own pain. Althea and Fiona's smiles didn't just vanish because someone else knew the truth now too. One tear was all that escaped her hold, rolling down her cheek like the boulder that starts the avalanche.

And very slowly, her fingers uncoiled themselves from his sleeve, cracking as she released him and swinging down to a limp halt by her side.

Rurik walked away from her, taking the stairs two at a time all the way down and broke into a run the second his foot touched the flat ground once again as he hurried to catch up with the others. Angrily swatting at the rebellious tear, Rayne tottered down after him, jogging toward the smoke filled sky in the south.

Horn Hill stood overlooking the center of the once elaborate city now smothered in the bonfires and pits of flame, carved into the mountainside. The others were already waiting around the horn when Rurik and Rayne rounded the corner in the hill. Aidan, who had been carrying the mouthpiece, set it in place as Rurik climbed the few steps up to the dais, gesturing with both hands for the prince to do the honors.

"Praise be to Dwayna if this works," he said so that all of them could hear. With a deep breath that bulged his cheeks, Rurik placed his lips against the conical piece and blew. The wind from his lungs traveled down the long chute that was the massive horn, reverberating against the finely carved walls before finally erupting at the base of the cliff in one rich, extreme deep bass note that rattled the ground so that the six gathered around him found it a challenge to keep their balance.

Overhead, the orangey clouds darkened to an angry gray, billowing as they blanketed the sky, darkening the sun with a tremendous clap of thunder than shook the bones of the ones standing underneath them. The storm swirled in faster than the few forks of lightning streaking across the sky, sending the first few patters of rain plummeting to earth. The few drops turned into a trickle, the trickle to a shower, and the shower to a cascade, each succession moving with the blink of an eye. Rayne lifted her head to the sky, closing her eyes as the rain quickly drenched every part of her.

"My friends!" Rurik shouted once he had exhausted all the breath he could muster on the horn. "To Rin!" He led the charge down the sloped side of the cliff, making his way right toward the center of town where all the Charr in the city were gathering to stare at the supernatural storm.

There were so many that Rayne was positive that only the seven of them wouldn't be sufficient to reclaim the city until they started the attack. The Charr were just as vicious as ever before, but they seemed to move slowly in the rain. The fires they had been tending in the city spluttered with the downpour, eventually winking out of existence completely as the water came down. It was only when she realized that the rain was able to extinguish the flames that she understood that it was weakening the Charr as well.

They worked their way through the streets, Rayne doing her best to remain close to Rurik's back. There was something wild in the prince's movements as they moved along into the central square—it almost looked like he was dancing with death every stride and didn't seem to either mind or care that his life was in danger. So she trailed along in his footsteps, shooting down the ones that he either didn't quite see or missed altogether in his mad dash into the city.

In the end, there was only one Charr left in the city—Bonfaaz Burntfur. The one animal responsible for the Searing. He had fled from Rurik's magic sword, darting cowardly up to the top of a set of stairs in order to give himself time to cast a spell. Rayne noticed too late that her bow wouldn't quite reach as far as she needed it to.

In a flash of silver robes, Cynn charged forward, brushing against her left shoulder in her mad dash. She leaped into the air, a bright ring of light surrounding her body. She remained suspended for a couple of seconds, eyes glowing a bright white as her hands thrust themselves toward the sky. From the clouds issued a stream of torrential fireballs, falling to strike the ground where Burntfur was standing. He dodged to the side, dancing to avoid the fireballs sending showers of sparks over his clawed feet, ornate and decorative beads clinking as he jerked from side to side.

Rayne moved forward a couple of steps, catching sight of Aidan on the other side of the square. He nodded to her once and, simultaneously, the two of them drew arrows from their quivers, nocked them, drew the string, and released. Each arrow found its mark in the Charr's hips, causing him to stumble in a hobble. Devona was next up the stairs. Having discarded her usual hammer temporarily for a small sword, she sprang into the air, rolling horizontally to drive the blade into the soft flesh between the beast's shoulder blades. As she continued her descent back down to the ground, Bonfaaz whipped around violently, catching her in the midsection with his flailing arm. Devona went flying, back striking the pedestal of a statue that had existed there once and falling into a crumpled heap on the ground below.

With the diversion that she had given him, Rurik took the stairs three at a time, yelling a war cry as he reached the top, sword poised to drive straight through the now pitiful monster lurching toward the downed girl.

It was over the second the large, furry body hit the ground, eyes half closed. Rurik heaved a sigh of relief, sheathing his sword as the others of his group ran up to join him. Ashe skirted around him over to where Devona was gingerly pushing herself to her feet, hands already glowing as she healed the various bruises and cut the woman had sustained.

"I owe you one, sire," she said to Rurik the second Ashe told her that she could stand. Rurik nodded with a sheepish smile that clearly told her that she, in fact, did not.

However, before he could say anything, the sound of blazing trumpets echoed from just around the corner.

"The king must be near," Rurik said in response to the questioning looks he was getting. The seven comrades did what they could to make themselves look presentable in the drizzling rain, standing perfectly still as the soldiers trooped in around them. Once the positions had been taken, a snow white haired man with a golden crown on his brow emerged from around the corner, striding forward with more pomp and circumstance to his gait than even the most highly trained show horse.

"Hail, King Adelbern!" the chorus of voices said together. The king took no heed of them, stopping only once he was an arm's length away from Rurik.

"You have done well to drive these beasts from the jewel of Ascalon, my son," Adelbern said in deep, gravelly tones. Rayne couldn't help but stare at Rurik standing before her, and then the mirror image of him, only aged by many more years. "But did I not order for Rin to be contained and no one to enter until the full might of the Ascalon Army could arrive to crush them."

"So you did, Father, but I could not sit idly by while the Charr overran our capital," Rurik said. "If we let them sit here, it would only have been a matter of time before they swept into the rest of Ascalon. I _had_ to take the fight to them."

"You are so young, my son," Adelbern crooned. "There is no need to fear for Ascalon's safety."

"With all due respect, Father, if the Charr can so easily slip through our defenses, then perhaps there is reason to fear."

"You are but a boy still, Rurik. You know nothing in the ways of defending a kingdom."

"Why must so many more suffer and die, Father?" Rayne cringed at the subtle pain laced in Rurik's words. Althea was back, but this time, she was on the mind of two rather than just one. "We can't even hold what defenses we have now. I say that we flee to Kryta to regain our strength."

Adelbern was instantly bright red in the face, as though he had just swallowed an entire keg of ale on his own. "Absolutely not! The Krytans are just as much our enemies as the Charr! I will not suffer Ascalonians to live under the shadow of that nation!"

"They have offered us aid!" Rurik protested. "They are willing to help us, and only a fool would dare refuse help when considering the damage that has been done here."

The whispers that spread like wildfire at his words only seemed to irritate the king further. "You dare call your king a fool?" Rurik pursed his lips, but did not deny the statement either. "Fine. Go to your little Krytan friends, but do not show your face here again! You are banished now and forever from the Kingdom of Ascalon."

"But, Your Majesty," one of the generals standing behind the king stuttered. "He is Crown Prince Rurik. He is your son."

Adelbern turned around and took a few steps before stopping one last time. "I have no son." Without another word, he turned and stormed away, his soldiers following behind with their tails between their legs like the well trained dogs they were.

Rurik did not watch him go. He turned to his companions, all lined up beside him, looking each one of them in the eye for several moments. When he finally came to Rayne, he kept his gaze trained on her for an extra second before addressing the group. "Anyone who wishes to follow me to Kryta may do so. Spread the word to all the towns that are still alive that anyone wishing to leave should form refugee caravans in the foothills by the end of the week."

"We'll follow you to the ends of the earth and back again, if that's where you're going," Devona said, speaking for all of them. Rayne nodded, hoping that he would see but not say anything.

"Let us be on our way then," Rurik said to them. "Thank you all."

Rayne sighed as Rurik shuffled off, trailed by the dejected group. She would follow him, but that would mean leaving Ascalon. It would mean leaving home.

She picked up one foot and placed it down in front of her, mouth set in one straight, grim line.

_A journey of a thousand miles always begins with that first step..._


	9. Cold

Underestimating exactly how cold it was in the mountains had to be the worst possible blunder in the history of mankind. It was summer down in the foothills and open expanses that were Ascalon, but these mountains had been deemed the Shiverpeaks. And whatever genius had come up with that name had not been exaggerating in the slightest.

Rayne was huddled as close to the campfire as it was possible to be without catching on fire, with her knees drawn up to her chest and a blanket she had hijacked from one of the caravan's supply wagons draped protectively around her shoulders. Even with all of that though, the brittle teeth of the icy wind still nipped at her extremities, sending a racking shiver scurrying down her spine.

"Here," Ashe said, kneeling down with two cups of steaming soup in her hands. Reluctantly uncoiling herself from her shuddering huddle, Rayne accepted one of the cups from her friend before using her other hand to extend the reach of the blanket over Ashe's shoulders too. Another body close to hers was some comfort, but not enough to stave off the relentless cold. "It's not much, but it's warm at least." Ashe's teeth were chattering, making it difficult to discern everything she said clearly.

She sipped the soup, rolling her tongue around inside her mouth as the mushy blandness of potato hit it. Spices were limited so there was only the tiniest hint of salt laced in every sip. At least it was something to eat. Some nights, the snows had fallen so hard that it had been impossible to build fires, so to have even have this much was a blessing.

"It's so cold," she grumbled, the words bursting forth as they interrupted her silent contemplation.

Ashe lifted the mug of soup to her lips, draining the mushy goop. "Yes. Mhenlo-nii is working on finding some cloaks, I think." She took the empty cup from Rayne just as the last dregs slid onto her tongue. The dratted cloud had a way of making every word terse and clipped as the mourning wind snatched the sound away.

The monk left her side open to the harsh elements as she darted away through the camp and Rayne snatched the loose end of the blanket with thick, numb fingers fumbling with it. It took a couple tries, but she was wrapped up again with only a slight tingling in her limbs from the chill. Luckily there was no snow packed up on the ledge where their caravan had stopped for the night, just to the east of the mouth of Borlis Pass.

So she didn't hear the person coming up from behind her until he was looming over her in the dying daylight. Only once his shadow fell across her did she finally scramble sideways around the fire pit, stopping only when common sense overrode the instinct at the sound of muted snickers from where she had just been.

Rurik plopped down in the spot she had just been, chest shaking with the effort of containing the full force of his chuckles, running a hand through his hair. There was something about him though—perhaps it was the shagginess of the curls coming down to tease the tops of his ears—that made him seem so much different, even from the few hours they had been apart.

He tossed a neatly folded bundle of cloth at her with his left hand, over his drawn knees to land daintily in her lap as her nearly frozen arms groped to catch it.

"Try those on," he said to her gruffly, eyes staring only at the leaping flames before him. With a quizzical look, Rayne untied the twisted string keeping the fabric together, lifting the pieces up to gape at them in awe. Rurik had just handed her a set of fur lined, leather armor complete with thermal leggings and padded boots. Each piece of the set had been dyed a rich, royal blue, accented by the few tufts of black fur that rimmed the edges from the inside.

"For…for me?" she stammered, scurrying into the bowels of the nearest covered wagon laden with supplies when Rurik chuckled a second time and motioned for her to go.

The frigid temperatures eagerly assaulted her as she stripped off the Ascalonian uniform, but suddenly vanished from her lower body the second she had the clasps of the leggings securely cinched around her waist. The long-sleeved coat laced up the front like a bodice, hem extending down far enough to be tucked into the leggings and held in place by a thick black belt, and had two panels of leather and fur protecting the sides of her legs. The boots were squishy and comfortable on her tired, sore toes when she slipped them on and laced them up for the first time and the woolen gloves sent a tingling of warmth flying across her skin once they were in place.

She bounded out of the wagon, having stowed her warmer weather clothing inside her pack, rejoining Rurik by the fire. He looked up when she approached, smiling weakly when she turned to show off the outfit.

"I thought it would fit you," he said solemnly, tossing the piece of thin wild grass into the heart of the blazing embers. "I found it in one of the abandoned storerooms in the foothills. It matches your eyes."

Rayne sank down to sit with her legs folded neatly under her, hands pressed to the ground on either side to steady herself. "What's the matter?" she asked, for there was definitely something weighing heavily on Rurik's mind. She had never seen him looking so lost before in her life.

He twiddled his thumbs together for a moment, having turned his head back so that he was no longer surveying her. "What are we doing here, Rayne?"

"We're going to Kryta to rebuild our strength. We're going for the hope of Ascalon," she answered. "Right?"

Rurik chewed his lower lip, finally taking a deep breath as he rejoined the present moment from whatever dark thought that had crossed his mind and his brow. "It has been long since there has been any hope," he murmured. Even with the layers of protective cloth and insulating fur, Rayne felt her blood run cold. "My…my father is a noble man. Ever since the days of my youth, he has looked to me to help, and regardless of how we disagreed from time to time, we both longed to put things right. I want to see the glory of Ascalon restored. I want to see that hope that I have been told there is, but…I can't. Wherever I turn, I cannot see anything but the fall of Ascalon and the ruination of our people."

"I…," Rayne mumbled in a start, but quickly found that there were no words she could use to even begin to express the deep-rooted loss driving stakes into her heart. Not knowing what else she could do, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I want those who have died not to have died in vain." It was a crippling thought, severing more and more of her will to function the longer she thought about it. Countless faces, those she knew and those she didn't, were staring up from the crimson stained ground where they had fallen in her dreams.

She sighed, retrieving her hand from Rurik's shoulder and doodling little bubble clouds and unsymmetrical hearts in the dirt. "Me too."

A sudden flare of what sounded like angry conversation exploded from the other side of the camp. Rayne was back on her feet within seconds, already reaching for the quiver that wasn't there. She had left her weapons with her pack. _Nothing serious_, she pleaded mutely. _And please don't upset Rurik._ A sidelong glance told her that Rurik didn't seem to be terribly disconcerted by the racket, but the rising noise level told her that it was heading in their direction.

Cynn stomped into view from around the backside of the wagon several feet in front of them, trailed by a huffy looking Devona and an almost bored Aidan. Ashe was there too along with a handful of the families that made up their caravan.

"Does anyone know exactly where Mhenlo is?" she demanded, planting her feet down shoulder width apart on the other side of the fire and jamming her fists on her hips imposingly.

"Mhenlo?" Rayne repeated, casting a questioning look to Ashe who had stopped just off to the right of Cynn. The strawberry blond head shook dejectedly and Rayne looked back to the fiery mage, shrugging her shoulders with a jerking head shake of her own. "I haven't seen him."

"I'm going to look for him," Cynn said clicking her tongue, suddenly whipping around to march off in the direction of the entrance of the pass over the mountains a little way to the west of their camp.

Devona raced after her, wrapping both of her hands around Cynn's upper arms, pinning her in mid stride. "And just where are you going to look, huh? You'll get lost in the mountains too and then where will we be?"

"Let me go," Cynn growled thunderously, eyes flaring dangerously with power as she turned her head back to stare Devona down. Without thinking, Rayne crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, ripping the two apart and shoving Cynn back toward the fire. She skidded backward a few steps, catching herself and straightening with a fireball dancing dangerously over her open palm.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Rayne shouted at them, drawing herself up to her full height, which was still shorter than both of the women standing opposite her. They did stop though, whether from surprise or actual respect, Rayne wasn't sure and didn't care. "Bickering here won't do anything to help anybody so just drop it!" Devona nodded sheepishly and Cynn sneered at her, but made no comment and extinguished the flame by closing her spindly fingers around it. "Now, who was the last to see Mhenlo?" she continued, addressing the crowd as well this time.

"That would be me, I believe," Aidan said, taking a single step forward with his hands clasped behind his back. "Mhenlo had watch and I do believe I saw him moving away to the west a couple of hours ago."

"To the west?" Devona mused, voice still very thin from the reprimand.

"Into the pass?" Rayne asked almost simultaneously. "But why?"

"Who cares why?" Cynn interrupted. "We have to find him. And I swear, if he's neither dead nor dying, I'm going to be the one to kill him!" She took an angry step forward, foot landing so hard in the dirt that a cloud of dust billowed up to hover around her ankle for a moment.

Rayne shoved her backward again. "Just wait. Devona's right. You can't run off on your own. We'll put a scout party together and then go look for him. Is that okay, Rurik?" She peered around the two older girls she was barring the path of to the man still sitting in the exact same position he had been in when they had appeared.

He jumped at the sound of his name, looking up to find the face of the one who had said it. Upon seeing Rayne staring at him intently, Rurik smiled wanly and nodded. "Of course. That's what should be done."

"Right," she said, turning back to the crowd. "We'll need a group of no more than ten strong fighters. Get yourselves put together and meet back here in ten minutes." The throng of onlookers dispersed at the order, and Rayne watched them go without any sort of real satisfaction. The real trouble was still standing right in front of her.

Cynn sneered. "Don't think too highly of yourself, Dalca. You're nothing but a kid after all." She stormed back into the camp though after the words had been spoken, shouted angrily after by Devona. The words Cynn had said to her stung like someone had just dumped a mountain of salt on a still bleeding wound, but probably only because they were true. She spun around and marched over to the wagon where her gear had been stored, extracting the capped quiver and bow from the heaping piles. She had also acquired a small knife recently, which she strapped to her belt in an afterthought.

By the time she returned to the edge of the camp, five of the men from the caravan had joined with Devona, Aidan, Cynn, Ashe, and Rurik. The group drew lots and one of the men stayed behind to head the refugee group while the others were absent.

It would be a true miracle, Rayne thought, for them to make it all the way through the mountains in one piece. Borlis Pass was the most accessible route through the mountains for that time of year, but it quickly snaked its way upward to the expanses of the Shiverpeaks where the snows never melted. And with everyone already at each other's throats, she wouldn't be surprised if they all just "accidentally" tumbled off the side of a cliff, never to be heard from again.

"That was a truly inspiring display back there, Dalca," Aidan said in his calm tone as he drew level with her. She glanced over at him, attention snapping to the flutter of his long, black hair being thrown back by the fierce winds of the mountains, before looking back to the ground beneath her feet. The path was inclining again and the jagged rocks made it impossible to walk without worry.

"I suppose. I really didn't do much of anything."

"To the contrary, one should think," Aidan replied, melodious voice rising and falling with a natural cadence that made her really want to believe every word that he said. "You proved your willingness to confront those who are wrong. You demonstrated a commanding presence in a taxing situation with rational judgment. Both are traits to be very proud of."

Rayne scuffed the sole of her boot against the rock, stumbling but catching herself before she fell so that she lurched upward with something less than poised grace. "I'm only a kid though," she argued, words sounding halfhearted in her own ears. "A kid that has lost all of the supports that most others have. I'm alone, and just me on my own isn't really much of anything."

"My father used to cross the Shiverpeaks often when he served in the Vanguard for the King of Ascalon," Devona piped in as she fell in step on Rayne's other side. The three grunted as they staggered up the slightly steeper slope together. "Those days are long past and he is no longer alive to watch me, but my memories of him have never faded. Here and now, I finally feel as though I am walking in his footsteps, making him proud of who I am and what I have become. I know that it'll work the same way for you too, Rayne. Someday soon."

Her lips twitched into the smallest hint of a smile, teasing her features into an expression that she couldn't remember the last time she had used it. That is, until the rumbling from both sides of the path transmitted in little tremors through the ground, sending all ten of them careening every which way in an attempt to keep their balances.

The road through the mountains was narrow and bordered on both sides by hills that gradually rose into the dizzying tops of the Shiverpeaks. But it was over these edges that the two groups of strange little men vaulted themselves, each one wielding a deadly combination of axes and shields and bows, catching the travelers in the crossfire. The newcomers averaged only three and a half feet in height, and were much broader in the shoulders than a normal human. The only substantial difference between the two groups that the travelers now found themselves in was that the mass of well armored ones on the left side of the field had skin-crawlingly creepy red eyes that seemed to glow.

The companions did what they could to fight their way through, but it was more than just difficult for ten people to survive the onslaught of two armies. It was next to impossible. And to make matters worse, Rayne noticed that a couple of the children from the caravan had snuck along behind the scouting party and had become embroiled in the conflict as well. Using the knife, she worked her way over to where they had huddled, screaming in terror, to stand between them and the danger as best as she could. The only reason she was even able to do that much was due in part to the help from one of the children, who seemed to be quite skilled in magic, helping to fend off some from behind her.

Luckily, the contest did not last long, ending in a victory for the little men that had appeared from the right. Unfortunately, however, Rayne found herself kneeling on the ground with the razor sharp blade of an axe pressing its icy bite into her neck, but not enough to draw blood while one of the men secured her hands behind her back. The other nine met the same fate, along with the children, regardless of how Rayne struggled and protested.

At last, an older man made his way through the group to where the prisoners where waiting on their knees. His long beard was a purer white than the snow on the ground and decorated with numerous beads in a myriad of colors and a spire peaked crown rested upon his bald head.

"Men," he said in a wizened, reedy grunt, looking the group over. "What brings men to the lands of the dwarves?"

"I am Rurik of Ascalon," Rurik announced from somewhere near the center of the kneeling group. "We are leading a group of refugees to Kryta. We mean your people no harm."

"Rurik of Ascalon?" the old dwarf said slowly. "Ah, I see. You are Ascalon's exiled prince, are you not?" Rurik swallowed and nodded, bowing his head. The dwarf muttered something in a strange language to the guards surrounding them and immediately the bounds around their hands and the weapons pinning them down were removed. "We are well met indeed," the elder dwarf continued. "I am Jalis Ironhammer, High King of Deldrimor."

"Milord," Rurik murmured with a bow, to which King Jalis merely chuckled and waved a hand for him to stop.

"We received word of your approach from a friend of yours not too long ago," the dwarf king said, gesturing behind him where a man in the white habit of a monk who was much taller than any of the other heads in the area was making his way toward them with a pleased grin on his face. A strangled cry escaped Cynn, who ran forward until she was within an arm's reach of Mhenlo.

She smacked him on the cheek before immediately pressing herself against his chest. "You're not dead! Well, you're going to wish you were when I'm through with you! You could have at least told us what you were doing!"

Mhenlo touched his cheek tenderly where she had slapped him, but then wrapped his arms around her waist and held her. "I'm sorry, Cynn, but the world doesn't revolve around you. I saw the dwarves and sought to contact them first before they discovered us by accident."

"And it's a good thing he did," Jalis Ironhammer said to the entire congregation around him. "I'm afraid you have come at a poor time. A faction calling itself the Stone Summit has separated from Deldrimor, which has embroiled my nation in a civil war."

"We are only looking for safe passage through to Kryta," Rurik told him.

"And you shall have it," King Ironhammer promised. "Deldrimor lands will permit you passage. My brother," he placed his hand on the dwarf standing to his right, "Brechnar, will escort you to the edge of Deldrimor lands." The gray haired dwarf bobbed his head respectfully to his king and crossed the distance between the two parties to stand beside Rurik. "And we will send an escort back with one of your company for the rest of your people."

"Your kindness is overwhelming," Rurik replied. "I don't know how we will ever be able to repay you."

"We will do what we can to honor the old alliances between our people," Jalis Ironhammer said to them with a air of finality to it before moving off to finish commanding his army.

Brechnar clapped his hands together, rubbing them so that the thick calluses on his palms made a scratching sound. "Let's be on our way, shall we? The rest of your caravan will rejoin us soon." Rurik nodded and Brechnar motioned for them to follow him, tottering away on his stubby legs off to the west.

Rayne took a couple double steps, catching up to their dwarven guide. "Where are we going to meet up with the others?"

"I'm taking you to Anvil Rock. We'll wait there for the rest of your people to come." He pointed to the mountain rising up just ahead of them. "We are going to climb to the top where the Great Dwarf forged our race. It is a sacred place where we will be safe."

The dwarf did just as he had said, leading the group of nine and the children that had gone with him to the very top of the monstrous ledge that jutted toward the sky just like a massive anvil. Rayne couldn't help but gasp at the view from the top. The anvil stretched far above the surrounding mountaintops, offering the perfect picture of the crystalline blue sky and the flakes of snow falling like pearly diamonds flashing in the last few rays of the sun. It was peaceful and for the first time in many months, Rayne felt the same tranquility in her heart.


	10. Gray Dawn

"Anvil Rock is one of the highest points in the Shiverpeaks," Brechnar Ironhammer said proudly in his gravely wheeze after his single morning tankard of ale. "It is sturdy and it is beautiful. A perfect tool for the Great Dwarf's forge." He belched, nudging the giant mug aside to rest next to the stoneware plate he dined from regularly.

"So, the Dwarves only have one god?" Rayne asked him. She sat cross-legged, opposite the stocky, diminutive man, hands clasped in her lap and shoulders inclined toward him.

"Aye," Brechnar answered. "None of this polytheistic lunacy that you humans have. It's a wonder you all aren't so confused that you see backward."

"Imagine," Brother Mhenlo interjected, tattooed head swaying as he sat down in their small ring. "A single god. It sounds utterly foolish if you ask me. How can only one being be in charge of the cosmos?" Brechnar only snorted, inserting the small end of a long pipe into the corner of his mouth while rummaging through the side pocket of his fur lined coat.

The snow on that elevated peak was light and fluffy like pure white cotton candy, spun into drifts more than two feet deep in most places by the biting winds. They howled and mourned through the jagged crags of white—intense beauty and terrible awe converging to create this enormous landscape.

The Ascalonians had huddled together in the shadow of the anvil shaped peak for the past two nights, waiting for the last of their straggling convoy to catch up. The Dwarves had proved to be excellent guides through the mountains, bringing the remainder of the caravan Rayne's group had left behind within little more than twenty-four hours. And with them came word of a second caravan marching not far behind. Rurik had been informed and he had ordered them to wait that second day for the next group.

Rayne hadn't minded the decision too much. She had agreed that staying for the second party would be for the best, but the insufferable cold combined with the delicate quiet of the powdery snow dusting the already frozen land was almost enough to drive her crazy. No one spoke much, all of them too afraid of shattering the spun-glass-silence to start a lengthy conversation. All there was to do was freeze.

Brechnar was probably the only one among them that didn't seem wholly disconcerted by this fact. The Ascalonians' hushed fear seemed too conveniently juxtaposed to his almost reverent silence, which had prompted Rayne's question and the subsequent discussion that morning.

"Opinions are like asses," Brechnar said at last, using his thumb to press the pipe weed into the end. "We've all got one and all of 'em stink."

Deciding it would be best if she left before she got pulled into a religious debate between the monk and the Dwarf, Rayne got to her feet, stamping her feet to get the circulation back down to her nearly frostbitten toes. A fine layer of white dust coated her warm weather clothing, testament to how long she had been sitting still.

She left them, high stepping her way through the massing drifts with her hands tucked securely into her armpits, making her way over to the other side of the camp where she knew she'd find Devona. After the confrontation between the two dwarf factions the other day, she had left the fates of the children that had snuck along in the hands of her warrior friend.

There were five of them all together, three boys and two girls each around ten years of age, standing in a row with their hands clasped behind their backs and their heads bowed sheepishly as Devona stomped along in front of them. Cynn and Ashe were standing off to the side, Cynn watching with great amusement in her sky blue eyes.

"You all could have been killed." Devona was shouting at them, ponytail flicking from side-to-side angrily. None of the kids said anything, shuffling uncomfortably under the murderous glint in their judge's eyes. "I've thought hard about what's to be done with you and I think I've finally come up with something." Each of the kids held their breath, sucking in one last gulp simultaneously while they waited. "The five of you are going to be in charge of cleaning up the camps and helping with one wagon each."

A couple of them were groaning under their breaths at the first half of the judgment, but by the time the last word had passed Devona's lips, four of the five were protesting against the 'unfair' sentence. Remaining stoically impassive to their outbursts, Devona simply pointed, gesturing for them to march back into camp.

"I hate doing it to them," she said turning to Rayne as the kids trooped along. "But they need to learn." Rayne nodded to her absentmindedly, but was paying more attention to the retreating heads over her shoulder. More specifically, the white-blond pigtails bobbing against the ears of the last girl in the line. "Something wrong?"

"Hmm?" Rayne's attention snapped back to her friend, raising her eyebrows in a quick question, before subtly shaking her head. "It's nothing." She looked back over Devona's shoulder, rocking back and forth nervously on her heels. "Hold on just a second," she continued, holding up a hand to halt Devona before she could say whatever it was that was on the tip of her tongue. She sidestepped her friend and trudged through the snow after the retreating children, taking hold of the blond haired girl's wrist to stop her.

She didn't object when Rayne spun her around, half leading and half dragging her back through the compacted footprints to where she had been standing during Devona's admonition. "You can use magic, can't you?" she asked the girl once she was in place, facing the small group of onlookers. Rayne herself could not see the expressions, but neither did she want to.

"Does it make a difference?" The girl blinked innocently, tilting her head to one side. A thin, almost iridescently white scar traced a crescent around the corner of her right eye, standing out even against her lily white skin. The paleness of her features was enough to make her seem as cold as the mounds of snow around them, but the gentle cadence of her misty soprano voice made Rayne doubt her initial impressions.

"Not really, no, but I wanted to thank you for your help the other day, if it was you," Rayne replied. "I don't think I would have done half as well without you helping protect them." She pointed at the trail of footprints to indicate the kids.

The girl looked at all of them, hazy gray eyes lingering on the four faces for a couple of seconds before looking away with a shrug. "If you want to thank someone, you should thank Adam. He told me that I should help you."

"One of the boys?" Devona asked, taking a step forward with a crunch of snow underfoot to stand beside Rayne.

"No," the girl replied dreamily. She twisted to reach the pouch she had slung across her hips, carefully opening it and pulling out the contents to show them. It took all of Rayne's willpower not to recoil when she saw the human skull lightly gripped in the girl's hand. "Adam," she said with a slight hand twitch to indicate the skull. "He's my friend."

"Ugh," Cynn groaned quietly from somewhere to Rayne's right. "Necromancer…" The girl either ignored Cynn's comment or she didn't hear it, but Rayne was more disturbed by the fact that she was looking directly at her with an expectant glint in her eye. It took her another second to realize that the girl was waiting for her to thank 'Adam'.

"Umm…thanks…" she mumbled at last, hesitantly directing the comment in the direction of the skull to avoid upsetting her. Apparently satisfied, she replaced the skull inside the pouch, doing the clasp once again.

"What's your name?" Devona asked once the thing was out of sight once again.

"Eve."

Rayne had opened her mouth to ask her a question of her own, but stopped when the creaking of wagon wheels struggling in the snow reached her ears from the east. She touched Devona on the shoulder once and, with a head nod from the older girl, set of at a loping pace to intercept the newcomers.

The wagon train cresting the rise in the mountains was larger than the one she had been traveling with by several families, but as excited as she was to know that others were coming, the man plowing ahead of the column brought the first relieved grin to her face in weeks.

"Captain Osric!" she shouted, waving brightly to the thin man headed straight for her. He was a man whom she had known since the days of her father's service, and one of the very few who had not lost any regard in her mind since her own induction into the service. His lean, sinewy build and closely trimmed beard that framed the legendary smile had not changed a bit.

"Dalca!" he called to her, bouncing through the remaining drifts like a march hare, sending snow skidding up as high as her chest in his final bound, which drew a chuckle and a playful scream from her. "Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes. Nothing around here but white, white, and a little bit of gray where the white hasn't quite settled yet. That and I know that if you're here, Rurik can't be far off."

Rayne chuckled again. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, well." Osric suddenly looked uncomfortable, shiftily looking off at the rising, snowbound peaks in the distance. "Nothing in particular. I guess it's just nice to see the promises from a deep friendship being upheld." As if realizing he had just said something he should not have, Osric smacked his lips and took a deep breath. "So…ah…how've thing been…here?"

"Good," Rayne answered warily. "For the most part. C'mon. I'll lead you back."

After several arduous minutes of coaxing the oxen to make the last leg of the trip and repairing the axel of the last wagon after it went over a particularly uneven patch, the second caravan trundled into the camp. Once parked, the owner of the wagon hopped down from his perch on the driver's seat and shuffled up to her, hands pressed together in front of his chest and shadowed by the plain brown robe. She couldn't see his face shadowed as it was by the large cowl, but that didn't stop her from gasping the second he opened his mouth to thank her.

"Cale?" she asked incredulously, leaning closer to him, tilting her head to try to peer into the inky depths under the hood. He laughed and jerked his head hard enough to throw off the cloth, grinning wickedly with that mischievous aura he had. "Shoulda known it was you causing trouble."

"Aww, come now, little Rayne. Why wouldn't I be here, taking part in this momentous excursion?" He smiled wider at her scowling face, making her want to punch him.

Instead of doing that though, she folded her arms across her chest, scraping the sole of her boot along the top layer of snow while she thought. "Where's Aika?" she asked finally. The white pigtails of her childhood friend popped up from inside the wagon, staring out at her with recognition in her eyes, but no apparent desire to acknowledge it verbally.

"There. See. I'm a good mentor," Cale answered defensively. Rayne rolled her eyes and took the nearby Osric by the elbow, leading him away from her old friend. They crossed the rapidly swelling camp until Rurik's small tent was in sight and Rayne banged on the canvas until the prince pulled aside the flap and crawled out into the open air.

The two embraced like brothers when Rurik noticed Osric, thumping each on the back in greeting. Rayne stood awkwardly by, trying her best to avoid looking like The-Younger-Sister-Of-The-Third-Friend-That-Was-Not-Present, which she was in all actuality. It was touching to see the two good friends reunited, but now more than ever, she wished that Gai was there too.

"You know," Cale said from somewhere behind her right shoulder, "your brother would be so upset to see you reminiscing like that."

"Shove it," Rayne grumbled, but with very little emotion in what she was actually saying.

"I'm so glad that the king did not withhold you for long," Rurik said to Osric. "It warms my heart to know that there are those willing to follow me, even through my time of folly."

Captain Osric saluted, posing himself with as much dignity as possible in the sudden gust of wind that whistled through the empty crags around them in a reverberating moan. "The people of Ascalon would follow you to the ends of the earth and back again, be it folly or not, my prince. That is our promise, here and now."

"I'm not a prince," Rurik said with a casual sigh. "At least, not anymore. I am but a citizen, much like the rest of you."

"You shall always be our prince, sire," Osric insisted, "whether His Majesty acknowledges it or not."

How Cale could move through the snow banks so subtly was something that drove Rayne crazy as the light kiss of his sleeve fluttered against her arm. She immediately shied away from the touch, but was thwarted by his hand wrapping around her shoulder farthest from him to pin her in her steps. "Funny thing, _promises_," he said, his lips only centimeters from her ear so that she could feel the warm puffs of breath as he spoke. The sensation sent chills of fear and mild revulsion shuddering through her. She shrugged off his hand and, with one last scowl at his antic, beaming smile and Aika's stonily stoic expression beside him, stormed away to rejoin the prince and the captain.

Rurik and Osric had dragged their freezing boots a couple of feet away from Rurik's tent so that the prince could point out places for the members of Osric's caravan to camp for the night. With a motion of his hand and a quick word that he would return shortly, Osric tramped off just as Rayne planted her feet into the compacting icy-snow. Rurik sighed audibly, slowly swiveling back and eyes widening when he noticed how close she was.

"Osric said something about a promise and a deep friendship," she said, resisting the urge to place her hands on her hips. "Please… Tell me what's going on." He was taller than her normally, but her words seemed to wither him like a potted plant left too long in the cold, until he seemed as frail and rigid as a porcelain doll.

"I…" he mumbled, picking up one foot off of the ground and quickly replacing it in the exact same spot, switching feet every time. "That is, your brother and I…."

He never had the chance to finish.

Aidan bounded over the lips of the mounds of white powder with the grace of a mad hare, feet barely dipping down in the fluffy top layer before he was springing forward again. "Milord!" he shouted, drawing Rayne's papier-mâché colored face and Rurik's quivering moustache to himself. "Dwarves are crawling over the pass to the south. They're flying crimson banners with a winged serpent emblazoned."

From somewhere close to her right elbow, a diminutive figure appeared as if from nowhere, leaping into the middle of their ring to take command of the situation. "Stone Summit," Brechnar howled as the wind picked up. "Blast! The Frost Gate is the only pass safe enough to lead wagons through for miles."

"Then we cut through," Rurik said, instantly drawing all of the attention upon himself. He was back standing fully upright, clenched right fist pressed adamantly into his cupped left palm. "Send for Captain Osric and any members of the Vanguard that have made the trip with us," he directed at Aidan, who bobbed his head respectfully with a hurried salute before bounding away again.

"We'd better move it," Brechnar cautioned, "if we're to buy enough time for your people to make it through." The Dwarf set off the way Aidan had come at a surprisingly quick trot. Without hesitation, Rurik set off after him, coming to an abrupt halt only once he heard the loping strides of the girl following behind him.

"No, Rayne," he said, holding up a hand that caught her on the left shoulder, shoving her back. "Stay here."

"I'm coming with you," she replied stubbornly.

"No!" Her mouth shrank into one puckered thin line, brow knitting together as her previously anxious expression hardened into blatant defiance. She _was_ going. "I need you to lead the people through the pass for me. They need someone to follow." She stubbornly took another step closer, earning a light shove from him and an insistent gesture for her to go back. "Do it for me."

She quailed under the ferocity of his pleading, bowing her head in resigned defeat. When she didn't make another attempt to follow him, Rurik whipped around again, setting off after the already invisible Dwarf. "I will see you again, right?" she called after him. It was such a lonely sight, she decided, watching his broad shoulders framed only by the wintry sky retreating into the distance. "On the other side?"

"Don't worry," was all she heard to accompany the halfhearted wave he passed over his shoulder before the horizon of frozen rain drops swallowed him whole.

But she did worry. Rurik was a man of his word, but there was something stirring restlessly in the back of her mind. An agitation perpetuated by a qualm of emptiness that kept her eyes always drifting to the far off horizon. It was only after they weren't there beside her that she realized just how much she had been relying on her friends to be her crutch.

The refugees moved quickly to keep up with her frenzied pace. She led them over the warped stone landscape, always feeling like she had to look back at them struggling along several paces too slow, urgently coaxing them all onward. But these were all the elderly, the sick, and the women with children that were now following her. The rest of the able-bodied men and women had already sped ahead to aid Rurik in opening the Frost Gate.

The grating of steel and shouts of battle sent tremors through the precariously molded snowy hills as the caravan drew close. Rayne scampered up the nearest hill, clambering on all fours as the terrain shifted under her, and peered out with one hand shielding her eyes from the glaring sun overhead. Down below, the iron slabs of the Frost Gate were standing agape with no one manning the draw chains to close them. Rurik and his fighters had pressed the Stone Summit to one side of the path, presenting a clear road from the other direction.

"Down that bank!" Rayne shouted back to the wagon train, pointing to the sloping path on their right. "Get the children and those who can't help in the wagons and make your approach from the side." It was kind of lengthy considering the situation, but they weren't exactly the people on the forefront of her mind. She could see them all down there. Her friends, buying her time to get the rest of the refugees down and safely into the pass.

While the wagons trundled down the safer route, Rayne leaped over the edge, digging the rough soles of her shoes into the snow to skid all the way down the shallow slope. She was standing on the brink, between the wagon train and her friends. The desperation was almost too much as she flipped her head around to look at each of them repeatedly.

Rurik seemed to have noticed their arrival as pairs of two Ascalonian fighters would drop back from the fight every so often to accompany the caravan members through the pass. Rayne would grin weakly to each set as they passed by her position directing the traffic, but her gaze continued to drift over to the eastern half of the beaten path where the fighting was still going on. The prince hadn't made an appearance by her yet—almost as if he was deliberately sending everyone else ahead of him. _Don't be an idiot_, she begged mentally.

The second the rear axel of the last wagon in their caravan crossed the excavated burrow that the iron gates had created in the frozen earth, she scanned the area one last time and found herself drawn away toward the fighting in the east. It was only Rurik left now, dueling the last vestiges of the Stone Summit Dwarves all on his own. In a flurry of flaming swords and axes, Rurik was spun around, eyes settling on her running in his direction.

Everything seemed to come to a standstill, hushed in the waiting anticipation of what was to come—Rayne tearing across the snow laden ground toward him with her arms outstretched, the triumphant dwarf shouting his name, _Dagnar Stonepate!_, to the sky, and Rurik's muddy eyes falling on her with an apologetic grimace.

"Go. You can't save me," he mouthed to her, as the axe of judgment fell with a note of finality. Rayne almost stumbled over her own feet the second the swish of metal imbedding itself into flesh rent the air, catching herself only seconds before falling flat on her face. "I'm sorry."

Her scream was even more chilling than the endless mountains of frost and snow as the now lifeless body tumbled down in a heap. She couldn't deny death. She had stared it brutally in the face too many times to ever suffer from denial. She couldn't move. If the strong pair of hands hadn't dragged her away forcefully from the sight, she would have been the Stone Summit's next victim.

Into the pass Rayne and her savior, Captain Osric, fled. Over the trails of pure white, which no longer seemed to be a color in her eyes anymore. White was no different than black. Both were empty voids bereft of something worth living for. It was loss…

_It was my fault_, she thought dismally at last, tear strained eyes absently watching the flurries of drifting snow. In the end, adhering to duty could not save family and friends. In the end, it was duty that had ruined everything.

****************************************

_There is no soul that can quite comprehend,_

_The plight of those that can't be saved,_

_That there is no help left for the damned._


End file.
